• 


J 


BOOKS  BY  THE  SAME  AUTHOR. 


ENGLAND     FROM    A    BACK-WINDOW. 
Fourth  edition  now  ready.     i2mo.    Cloth,  $1.50. 

"  The  sketches  are  not  mere  humorous* exaggerations,  but  contain 
a  great  deal  of  very  sensible  observation  and  graphic  description."  — 
Baltimore  Gazette. 


THEY    ALL    DO     IT; 

OK, 

MR.  MIGGS  OF  DANBURY  AND  HIS  NEIGHBORS. 
Illustrated.    Cloth,  $1.00.     Paper,  50  cents. 


LIFE    IN     DANBURY: 

BEING   A    BRIEF   AND    COMPREHENSIVE    RECORD   OF   THE 

DOINGS    OF    A    REMARKABLE    PEOPLE    UNDER 

MOST    REMARKABLE   CIRCUMSTANCES. 

i6mo.    Illustrated?"  Cloth,  $i  .00.    Paper,  50  cents. 


LEE  AND  SHEPARD,  PUBLISHERS,  BOSTON. 


MR.  PHILLIPS'  GONENESS. 


BY 


JAMES    M.    BAILEY, 

"THE  DANBUEY-NEWS  MAN," 

AUTHOR  OF  "ENGLAND  FROM  A  BACK-WINDOW,"  "LIFE  IN  DANBURY,' 
"THEY  ALL  DO  IT,"  ETC. 


BOSTON: 
LEE    AND    SHEPARD,  PUBLISHERS. 

NEW  YORK: 
CHARLES    T.   D1LLINGHAM. 

1879- 


COPYRIGHT,  1879, 
BY  LEE  AND  SHEPARD. 


All  rights  reserved.     . 


A  CONCILIATORY  WORD. 


DEAR  READER,  this  is  a  simple  story,  simply  told.  It  is 
not  designed  to  excite,  but  to  improve.  If  it  is  not  attrac- 
tive, it  is  because  it  is  true,  and  finds  a  cruel  emphasis  all 
about  you.  If  the  little  volume  should  make  a  single  hus- 
band more  tender,  a  single  wife  more  patient,  and  sell  well, 
I  will  feel  that  my  labor  has  not  been  in  vain. 
Yours  sincerely, 

THE  AUTHOR. 


942094 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  PAGE 

I.  THE  NEW  JOURNEYMAN 7 

H.  THE  EDITOR  IN  AN  UNOFFICIAL  LIGHT      .        .  17 

III.  MR.  PHILLIPS  BECOMES  CONFIDENTIAL        .        .  24 

IV.  PUBLICATION  DAY 36 

V.  AT  THE  PRAYER-MEETING 44 

VI.  THE  PICTURE  OF  A  HAPPY  FUTURE     .        .        -55 

VII.  DOCKERTY 69 

VIII.  AT  TEA  AT  QUIMBY'S 78 

IX.  MR.  PHILLIPS  MEETS  AN  EMERGENCY  ...  87 

X.  THE  WEDDING-EVE 97 

XL  AT  LAST 104 

XII.  MR.  PHILLIPS  SAVES  THE  OFFICE.        .        .        .112 

XIII.  REDNER  WRITES  A  LETTER 121 

XIV.  IN  THE  NEW  HOME        ......  132 

XV.  MR.  PHILLIPS  DISTINGUISHES  HIMSELF        .        .  139 

XVI.  IN    WHICH    ONE    OF   THE    CHARACTERS    FADES 

AWAY 150 

XVII.  TOM  GRIGGS  GETS  OUT  ON  THE  WRONG    SIDE 

OF  THE  BED: 157 

XVIII.  DESTINY  COLLARS  MR.  PHILLIPS  ....  169 

XIX.  WERE  THEY  BILIOUS? 174 


MR.    PHILLIPS'1  GONENESS:' 

THE  STORY  OF  A  WEDDED  LOVE. 


CHAPTER   I. 

THE    NEW  JOURNEYMAN. 

GALLOWHILL,  two  hours'  ride  by  rail  from  Bos- 
ton, boasted  one  paper,  —  "  The  Gazette."  "  The 
Gazette  "  was  published  every  Tuesday,  at  two  dol- 
lars per  annum,  strictly  in  advance,  as  is  customary 
with  village  newspapers.  The  office  of  "  The 
Gazette "  was  on  the  second  floor  of  a  two-story 
brick  block  on  Main  Street.  The  office  was  ap- 
proached by  a  stairway  from  the  street,  which 
stairway  led  directly  into  the  printing-room,  with- 
out the  preface  of  a  hall,  and,  so  communicating 
with  no  other  portion  of  the  second  floor,  was  de- 
voted exclusively  to  the  uses  of  "  The  Gazette " 
and  its  patrons.  On  the  risers  to  the  steps  were 
placards  in  bold  black  type,  setting  forth  the 
name  of  the  paper,  and  the  fact  that  the  art 
preservative  was  carefully  manipulated  in  all  its 


S  MR.  PHILLIPS'   GONENESS. 

branches.  On  the  steps  were  various  accumula- 
tions of  dust,  reverently  spared  by  the  broom, 
which  semi-weekly  passed  down  the  middle  of  the 
way, --bits  of  printed  paper  twisted  into  wads, 
and  smeared  with  ink,  and  bits  of  white  and  col- 
ored capers,,  the  refuse  of  the  cutter,  either  dragged 
there  by  the  all-comprehensive  feet  of  rural  visit- 
ors, or  dropped  there  by  children  coming  away 
with  supplies  for  their  own  use. 

The  plastered  walls  on  either  side  were  smeared 
with  ink,  in  designs  having  no  intelligible  signifi- 
cance, and  in  designs  with  plenty  of  significance. 
Who  made  these  marks,  no  one  knew:  further- 
more, no  one  could  tell  when  they  were  done. 
They  are  common  to  all  stairways  approaching 
country  printing-offices,  attracting  no  comment, 
and  stimulating  no  research.  The  editor  of  "  The 
Gazette  "  supposed,  when  he  gave  the  matter  any 
thought  at  all,  that  they  were  laid  on  by  the  plas- 
terer when  the  walls  were  made ;  an  extremely 
natural  supposition,  and,  likely  enough,  the  only 
reasonable  one  possible. 

There  was  a  board  partition  enclosing  the  stair- 
way opening,  with  a  door  at  the  head.  This  im- 
provement had  been  made  by  the  present  editor  of 
"The  Gazette."  For  the  many  years  preceding 
his  coming,  the  business  of  the  office  had  required 
no  door,  and  simply  a  rail  in  place  of  the  partition, 
to  keep  anxious  subscribers  and  abstracted  con- 
tributors from  backing  off,  and  imperilling  the  pan- 
elling  of  the  street-door. 


THE  NEW  JOURNEYMAN.  9 

The  printing-office  was  an  almost  square  apart- 
ment, with  very  little  spare  room,  all  space  having 
been  intelligently  economized.  There  were  the 
racks  for  the  cases  of  type,  so  arranged  as  to  com- 
mand the  best  light ;  the  imposing-stones ;  a  hand- 
press  for  printing  the  paper ;  two  treadle-presses 
for  job-work  ;  and  the  various  machinery  and  ap- 
pliances common  to  a  country  printing-office.  A 
prominent  feature  was  a  rusted  stove,  with  draught 
always  opened  to  its  fullest  capacity.  It  has  come 
to  be  doubted  if  it  is  possible  to  modify  the  draught 
to  a  country  printing-office  stove ;  and,  whatever 
may  be  the  pattern  of  the  article,  this  dreadful 
peculiarity  seems  to  be  either  built  into  it  at  its 
inception,  or  ingrafted  thereon  by  some  invisible 
process  when  it  is  set  up.  It  is  because  of  this 
that  a  country  printing-office  consumes  more  coal 
than  a  blacksmith-shop.  It  is  a  most  astounding 
phenomenon. 

The  sanctum  of  "  The  Gazette  "  was  indicated 
by  a  desk  and  a  chair,  both  over  the  stairway,  and 
lighted  by  one  of  the  three  front  windows. 

It  was  on  a  Monday  evening  in  January,  1876. 
Three  gas-jets  were  burning  in  the  office  of  "The 
Gazette."  One  of  them  was  over  the  editorial 
desk ;  another  was  over  a  rack  in  the  rear  of  the 
room ;  and  the  third  lighted  an  imposing-stone. 
The  shades  over  these  jets  were  admirable  in  con- 
centrating the  light  upon  the  objects  beneath 
them,  but  threw  the  greater  part  of  the  room  into 
deep  shadow.  The  stove  was  red  all .  round  with 


10  MR.  PHILLIPS'    GONENESS. 

the  tremendous  effort  it  was  making  to  impart  the 
least  amount  of  heat  with  the  greatest  amount  of 
coal. 

A  tall,  slim  man  was  at  work  at  the  rack  under 
the  gas-jet.  Occasionally  he  would  pass  to  the 
lighted  stone,  adjust  a  line  in  the  form  resting 
thereon,  and  then  return.  He  worked  and  moved 
silently,  and  in  passing  to  and  fro  would  lose 
himself  in  the  shadow,  only  to  re-appear  in  the 
light  with  startling  abruptness. 

At  the  desk  sat  Thomas  B.  Griggs,  editor  of 
"The  Gallowhill  Gazette,"  and  "plain  and  orna- 
mental job-printer,"  as  the  advertisement  on  the 
left  hand  of  the  title-page  of  the  paper,  and  vari- 
ous bill-heads,  letter-heads,  and  cards  on  the  desk, 
indicated.  He  was  a  young  man,  scarcely  thirty, 
with  a  shapely  head,  curly  brown  hair,  mustache 
a  shade  lighter  than  the  hair,  a  prominent  nose, 
—  which  always  indicates  depth  of  character  and 
firmness  of  purpose  to  the  owner  and  immediate 
relatives,  —  and  other  well-formed  features.  Aside 
from  a  stain  of  ink  on  the  second  ringer  of  his 
right  hand,  and  an  abstracted  air  on  his  face,  there 
was  nothing  in  Mr.  Griggs'  appearance  to  inform 
a  casual  observer  that  he  was  an  editor ;  and  yet 
he  had  been  at  the  head  of  "  The  Gazette "  two 
whole  years,  and  had  worked  faithfully  upon  its 
columns  all  that  time.  He  was  now  hard  at  work 
preparing  copy  for  the  paper  of  the  morrow,  and 
he  worked  like  one  in  a  nervous  hurry.  There 
was  a  pile  of  newspaper  clippings  at  his  side,  and 


THE  NEW  JOURNEYMAN.  II 

close  to  it  the  trusty  paste-pot ;  but  it  was  with 
neither  of  these  he  was  engaged.  Several  sheets 
of  manuscript  occupied  his  attention,  and  very 
closely  held  it,  judging  from  the  contraction  of  his 
brows. 

"What  an  infernal  mess'!"  he  ejaculated. 

"What's  that,  Tom?"  asked  the  tall,  slim  man, 
without  raising  his  head. 

"This  communication  from  Holcomb." 

The  tall,  slim  man  lifted  his  head  on  hearing  the 
name,  and  turned  what  would  have  revealed  an 
anxious  face,  had  the  shadows  permitted,  toward 
his  chief. 

"You  ain't  agoin'  to  publish  any  of  his  stuff 
to-morrow,  are  you  ? " 

"That'll  depend  a  good  deal  on  whether  I'm 
able  to  make  it  out  by  that  time,"  was  the  grim 
reply. 

"  Well,  if  you  do,  we  won't  get  out  till  midnight," 
said  the  tall,  slim  man  gloomily.  "  We're  two 
columns  behind  now ;  and,  if  we've  got  to  tackle 
his  manuscript,  we're  up  the  spout  sure  for  this 
week.  How  much  is  there,  of  the  infernal  stuff  ? " 

"About  a  column." 

"  Holy  Moses  !  "  gasped  the  tall,  slim  man. 

The  editor  counted  over  the  sheets  of  Mr.  Hoi- 
comb's  unfortunate  manuscript,  and  said,  — 

"  I  won't  use  it  this  week.  I'll  tell  him  it  got 
mislaid.  He's  an  old  nuisance  anyway;"  and  with 
this  compromising  opinion  the  conscientious  editor 
dropped  the  subject.  "We  ought  to  have  another 
man,  and  I  must  see  about  it,"  he  added. 


12  MR.  PHILLIPS'   GONENESS. 

And  then  he  turned  to  the  clippings,  and  pro- 
ceeded to  paste  them  on  a  slip  of  paper,  making 
alterations  in  some  of  them  on  the  margin.  While 
thus  engaged,  a  step  was  heard  on  the  stairs. 

"  I  wonder  who  on  earth  that  can  be,"  he  pet- 
tishly thought. 

The  step  ascended.  There  was  a  moment  of 
fumbling  about  for  the  latch,  and  then  the  door 
opened,  and  some  one  entered.  The  new-comer 
saw  the  tall,  slim  man  at  the  case ;  and  he  worked 
his  way  to  him  through  the  shadows  that  lay  upon 
the  racks  and  machinery  in  his  way.  The  object 
desired  looked  up  at  the  sound,  and  curiously 
toward  the  comer. 

"  Is  the  editor  in  ?  "  asked  the  visitor. 

The  tall,  slim  man  had  never  before  heard  the 
voice ;  and  he  looked  hard  at  the  face,  to  make 
sure  that  he  had  never  before  seen  the  owner,  and 
then  he  said,  — 

"Yes:  there  .he  is,"  and  pointed  to  the  desk. 

The  stranger  worked  his  way  through  the 
shadows  to  the  place  indicated;  while  the  tall, 
slim  man,  understanding  he  was  a  stranger,  made 
his  business  his  own,  as  was  eminently  proper  in 
the  foreman  of  a  country  printing-office,  and,  drop- 
ping his  work,  turned  his  full  attention  upon  what 
was  going  forward.  The  visitor,  reaching  Editor 
Griggs,  set  down  the  very  thin  bag  he  carried,  and 
removed  his  hat. 

As  far  as  the  light  would  permit,  the  editor  saw 
a  young  man,  apparently  not  more  than  twenty, 


THE  NEW  JOURNEYMAN.  13 

with  sallow  features,  and  a  restless  expression  to 
his  eye  that  was  easily  noted  even  in  the  imper- 
fect light.  He  wore  his  hair,  which  was  black 
and  straight,  rather  long;,  and  the  hat  which  he 
removed  was  a  slouch,  of  which  the  brim,  like  the 
hair  it  covered,  was  more  in  quantity  than  the  pre- 
vailing style  sanctioned.  His  whole  appearance 
was  so  strongly  indicative  of  an  intensely  poetic 
nature,  that  the  heart  of  the  editor  sank  within 
him.  He  glanced  at  the  rusty  bag,  and  sighed. 

"You  are  the  editor,  I  believe?"  suggested  the 
stranger. 

"Yes." 

"  I  have  called  to  see  if  I  could  find  work  with 
you  at  type-setting." 

The  revulsion  of  feeling  in  the  breast  of  the 
editor  that  set  in  on  the  receipt  of  this  informa- 
tion was  too  great  for  concealment.  He  half  rose 
from  the  chair  in  the  excess  of  his  emotion. 

"You  want  a  'sit,'  eh  ?" 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"Are  you  pretty  rapid  ? " 

"  Not  very.  I  have  had  some  two  years'  experi- 
ence at  the  case,  and  can  set  pretty  good ;  but  I 
am  not  able  to  earn  big  wages." 

Tom  Griggs'  face  brightened  up  at  this  last. 
"The  Gallowhill  Gazette"  was  not  pecuniarily  in 
a  condition  to  pay  big  wages. 

"  Where  do  you  come  from,"  he  next  asked. 

"Boston." 

"  Much  used  to  manuscript  ? " 


14  MR.   PHILLIPS'    GONENESS. 

"Yes,  sir." 

"Well,  let  me  see,"  mused  the  editor,  softly 
tapping  the  desk  with  his  pencil.  "  We  are  pretty 
well  pressed  just  at  present,  and  could  use  another 
man  to  advantage ;  but  we  can't  pay  heavy,  you 
know."  He  looked  up  to  the  face  of  the  youth 
for  a  corroboration  of  this  view  of  the  situation. 

"  I  suppose  not,"  the  stranger  was  so  kind  as  to 
say.  "I  don't  seek  for  large  pay.  I  am  willing 
to  work  for  small  wages  ;  but  I  must  have  work," 
he  added  in  a  tone  of  desperation.  "  I  have  got 
no  money ;  and,  if  I  don't  get  something  to  do,  I 
shall  kill  myself." 

"I  hope  it  ain't  so  bad  as  that,"  hastily  rejoined 
Editor  Griggs,  looking  intently  at  the  sallow  face. 
"  How  much  wages  do  you  want  ?  " 

"  I  don't  want  to  set  the  price,  sir.  I  am  will- 
ing to  work  faithfully,  and  I  am  sure  you  will  be 
satisfied  with  me.  I  thought,  that,  if  you  were 
willing,  1  might  stay  with  you  a  week,  in  which 
time  you  could  see  what  I  can  do,  and  could  tell 
what  I  would  be  worth  to  you  in  case  you  wanted 
me  longer." 

"Well,  that's  fair  enough,"  candidly  conceded 
Mr.  Griggs.  "  You  can  come  on  in  the  morning, 
I  suppose  ? " 

"Yes,  sir." 

"  Where  are  you  staying  in  town  ? " 

"  Nowhere,  as  yet.  I  came  right  here  from  the 
depot." 

Editor  Griggs  turned  his  eyes  toward  the  tall, 
slim  man,  who  was  all  attention,  and  called,  — 


THE  NEW  JOURNEYMAN.  1 5 

"  Ez ! " 

The  tall,  slim  man  came  over  at  once. 

"  Ez,  this  is  a  young  man  from  Boston,  a  type- 
setter, who  is  going  to  help  us  out  for  a  few  days. 
By  the  way,  your  name  ?  " 

"Redner." 

"Ah,  yes !  Well,  Mr.  Redner,  this  is  Mr.  Phil- 
lips, the  foreman  of  '  The  Gazette.'  "  It  is  not  to 
be  denied  that  Mr.  Griggs  said  this  with  consider- 
able unction.  It  is  not  every  country  printing- 
office  that  has  a  foreman. 

Mr.  Redner  extended  his  hand,  which  Mr. 
Phillips  accepted  with  the  awkwardness  peculiar 
to  the  blending  of  dignity  with  bashfulness. 

Ezekiah  Phillips  was  not  as  old  as  his  employer ; 
but  he  appeared  older.  His  eyes  were  large,  but 
receding;  his  nose,  large  and  progressive.  It 
was  a  fully  developed  Roman  nose,  and  gave  to 
the  rest  of  the  face  —  especially  when  the  owner 
was  in  a  confidential  mood,  either  from  liquor  or 
circumstances  — a  preternaturally  solemn  air.  Mr. 
Phillips  was  both  positive  and  wavering,  both 
shrewd  and  credulous.  When  under  the  mellow- 
ing influences  of  alcohol,  he  was  both  combative 
and  apologetic,  and  would  give  way  to  either  a 
flood  of  tears  or  a  torrent  of  profanity  with  equal 
facility ;  and  would  blend  pathos  and  ferocity  in  a 
remarkable  manner,  throwing  over  all  a  solemnity 
most  profound.  Besides  being  a  good  workman, 
Mr.  Phillips  had  a  strong  bass  voice,  which  was 
utilized  to  great  advantage  in  the  choir  of  the 


1 6  MR.   PHILLIPS'   GONENESS. 

Gallowhill  Congregational  Church  at  two  Sunday 
services. 

"Ez,"  said  Editor  Griggs,  "Mr.  Redner  has 
just  come  to  Gallowhill,  and  has  no  place  to  stay, 
of  course.  Don't  you  suppose  he  could  be  accom- 
modated at  Quimby's  ? " 

Quimby's  was  the  boarding-house  patronized  by 
Mr.  Phillips.  He  had  no  doubt  it  could  be  done ; 
whereupon  Mr.  Griggs  turned  over  the  new-comer 
to  the  care  of  his  foreman,  and  resumed  his  work. 

It  was  an  extremely  embarrassing  position  for 
Mr.  Phillips.  He  never  more  fully  felt  his  awk- 
wardness. He  stared  at  the  stranger  until  the 
stranger  looked  up  at  him,  and  then  he  removed 
his  eyes  with  a  jerk.  As  speedily  as  possible  he 
worked  him  over  to  the  case,  where,  surrounded 
by  the  type  and  sticks,  he  found  inspiration  in  the 
implements  of  his  trade,  and  in  a  short  time 
possessed  himself  of  much  information  in  regard 
to  the  recruit,  and  had  struck  up  quite  an  ac- 
quaintance. 

Mr.  Griggs  worked  away  very  industriously  for 
a  half-hour  longer ;  then  he  put  on  his  cuffs  and 
coat,  straightened  his  hair,  replaced  his  pipe  with 
a  cigar,  donned  his  hat,  and  hurried  away  with  a 
sigh  of  relief. 


THE  EDITOR  IN  AN  UNOFFICIAL  LIGHT.        1 7 


CHAPTER   II. 

THE   EDITOR    IN   AN    UNOFFICIAL    LIGHT. 

EDITOR  GRIGGS  walked  rapidly  after  leaving  the 
office  of  "The  Gazette."  The  air  was  keen  and 
crisp,  and  the  hard-beaten  snow  creaked  beneath 
his  step.  The  stores  were  still  in  a  blaze  of  light, 
and  the  walk  was  full  of  hurrying  pedestrians,  for 
it  was  yet  early ;  but  the  editor  paid  no  attention 
to  any  one  or  any  thing.  He  hastened  on,  his 
eyes  full  of  glad  anticipation,  and  his  cheeks  aglow 
from  the  same  emotion.  At  almost  every  stride 
he  quickened  his  pace,  and  seemed  to  be  trying  to 
avoid  recognition.  On  a  street  off  from  the  main 
thoroughfare,  he  turned  into  the  yard  of  a  small, 
unpretentious  house ;  ran  up  on  the  side-porch  ; 
opened  its  door,  through  whose  curtained  sash  a 
light  shone ;  and  stepped  into  the  sitting-room  of 
the  place,  and  almost  directly  into  the  arms  of  a 
young  woman. 

"O  Tom!"  she  cried,  as  she  clasped  him 
around  the  neck,  "  what  makes  you  so  late  ? " 

"I   couldn't   help   it,   Annie/'  he   said,   as   he 


1 8  MR.   PHILLIPS'    GONENESS. 

turned  a  remarkably  pretty  face  upward,  and 
buried  its  lips  in  his  mustache.  "There  was  a 
chap  came  in  to  get  a  '  sit,' "  he  added,  on  resur- 
recting the  lips,  "and  that  kept  me.  And,  by 
George !  what  a  start  he  gave  me !  I  thought  he 
was  a  poet." 

His  voice  sobered  down  so  suddenly  upon  the 
utterance  of  this  foreboding,  that  the  young  girl 
laughed  outright.  It  was  such  a  cheery,  happy 
laugh,  and  showed  to  such  advantage  the  tempting 
mouth  that  gave  it  voice,  that  the  sexton  was  again 
pressed  into  service. 

"  O  Tom  !  what  a  pest  you  are  !  "  she  cried,  as 
soon  as  she  was  able.  "  I  believe  you  will  smother 
me  some  day." 

As  he  turned  the  face  up,  so  that  his  eyes  and 
the  light  fell  upon  it,  he  looked  very  much  as  if  he 
were  two-thirds  inclined  to  commit  the  awful  deed 
on  the  spot.  It  was  a  bright,  loving  face ;  and,  as 
Tom  Griggs  looked  down  upon  it,  he  felt  his  heart 
swell  with  pride. 

"  Pet,"  he  earnestly  exclaimed,  "  you  are  the 
handsomest  darling  in  all  the  world." 

"Am  I,  Tom  ? "  she  whispered  softly,  her  cheeks 
flushing  with  pleasure. 

"Are  you?     Why,  you  know  you  are." 

"  I  know  I  am  to  you,  Tom ;  and  that  is 
enough."  Then  she  drew  the  plump  arms  closer 
about  his  neck,  and  nestled  her  face  on  his  shoul- 
der. 

The  black  hair,  smooth   and   lustrous,  was   so 


THE  EDITOR  IN  AN  UNOFFICIAL  LIGHT.      19 

beautiful  in  his  eyes,  that  he  passed  his  hand  over 
it  again  and  again ;  and,  while  he  did  so,  he  softly 
whispered,  — 

"  My  darling,  my  darling !  " 

And,  under  the  caress  and  the  whisper,  the  girl's 
heart  swelled  with  pride,  and  her  eyes  filled  with 
tears. 

Happy  woman  !  with  his  strong  arm  about  her, 
his  hand's  touch  thrilling  her,  his  intense  nature 
loving  her,  and  his  manly  voice  calling  her  the 
dearest  names. 

Happy  man  !  with  her  woman's  heart  all  his,  the 
loving  arms  tight  about  him,  the  beautiful  face 
radiant  with  love  to  him.  It  was  all  his, — the 
handsome  features,  the  glossy  hair,  the  shapely 
form,  —  all,  all  his.  What  a  blessed  inspiration  it 
was  to  him !  How  his  heart  filled,  his  eyes  bright- 
ened, his  soul  thrilled,  under  the  impulse  of  the 
thought ! 

"Ah,  Tom  Griggs  !  "  he  involuntarily  exclaimed, 
"  if  ever  there  was  a  fortunate  man  in  all  God's 
earth,  you  are  the  one." 

The  form  in  his  arms  quivered  in  an  ecstasy  of 
delight  at  this  passionate  utterance. 

"  My  darling ! "  she  murmured,  nestling  still 
closer  to  him. 

.  And  Tom  held  her  tight  in  both  arms  now,  and 
kissed  the  beautiful  hair,  and  forgot  that  he  was 
the  editor  of  a  country  newspaper,  with  the  publi- 
cation day  close  at  hand.  No  other  thought  came 
into  his  mind  but  that  of  her;  and  no  other 


20  MR.   PHILLIPS'   GONENESS. 

thought,  had  he  his  way,  should  ever  find  entrance 
within  the  portals  of  his  soul.  He  was  not  wea- 
ried to  stand  there:  it  was 'no  burden  to  sustain 
her.  Looking  down  upon  the  shapely  head,  feel- 
ing her  faithful  heart  throbbing  against  his  own, 
he  fell  to  questioning  whether  it  was  not  his  duty 
to  yield  up  his  life  at  once  in  an  ecstasy  of  de- 
light as  a  sort  of  imperfect  thank-offering. 

"O  Annie ! "  he  cried,  "if  I  never  need  go  away 
from  you  again  !  " 

"  I  know  it,  Tom,"  she  murmured.  "You  come 
to  me  every  night  now ;  but  yet  the  time  between 
seems  so  long.  Only  a  little  while,  and  then  we 
shall  never  be  separated."  She  said  this  in  her 
patient,  hopeful,  woman's  way. 

It  did  not  seem  possible  that  he  could  draw  her 
any  closer  to  himself  than  she  was  already  ;  but  he 
did. 

"  Why,  Tom,"  she  cried,  as  soon  as  she  could 
catch  her  breath,  "  you  will  surely  kill  me." 

If  pressure  would  kill,  she  certainly  stood  in 
imminent  danger  of  passing  hence  under  that 
process ;  and  there  is  no  telling  what  might  have 
been  the  result  had  not  a  step  sounded  on  the 
porch.  The  door  opened  almost  immediately,  and 
a  young  girl  entered  the  room.  As  quick  as  the 
lovers  were  in  the  movement  produced  by  this 
entrance,  they  were  not  quick  enough  to  blind  her 
eyes  to  the  probabilities. 

"  Why,  Tom,"  she  exclaimed,  with  a  smile  and  a 
glance  at  both,  "  how  long  have  you  been  here  ? " 


THE  EDITOR  IN  AN  UNOFFICIAL   LIGHT.      21 

It  was  noticeable  of  her  face  that  the  smile 
came  suddenly,  lighted  her  features  in  a  flash,  and 
then  went  again,  leaving  no  trace  of  its  presence. 
It  was  a  grave,  serious  ^face  in  repose ;  but  the 
smile  made  it  radiant. 

"About  a  minute,"  said  the  young  man  in  an- 
swer, striving,  in  the  rectitude  of  his  nature,  to  be 
quite  exact. 

"Where's  mother,  Annie?"  she  asked  of  her 
sister. 

"She's  over  to  Quimby's.  Mrs.  Quimby  has 
got  a  sore  throat  or  something." 

The  young  girl  passed  into  another  room  to 
remove  her  wraps,  an  opportunity  Mr.  Griggs 
promptly  economized  by  a  use  of  the  sexton. 

"  O  Tom  !  "  laughingly  protested  his  betrothed. 

The  young  girl,  returning  to  the  sitting-room, 
drew  a  rocker  to  the  stove,  and,  seating  herself, 
placed  her  feet  to  warm  them,  and  rested  her 
cheek  on  her  hand.  In  this  position  she  looked 
at  the  fire  as  if  in  a  dream.  It  was  a  very  serious 
face,  —  a  tenderly  sad  face.  She  was  not  as  hand- 
some as  her  sister.  Her  features  lacked  the  regu- 
larity and  the  full  rich  color ;  but  their  expression 
was  so  fraught  with  tenderness  as  to  redeem  the 
plainness.  Perhaps  this  expression  was  but  a 
reflection  of  her  eyes.  Soul-eyes  they  co.uld  be 
called,  so  full  were  they  of  light,  —  dark,  deep 
blue  eyes,  luminous  with  purity.  Not  five  out  of 
every  one  hundred  persons  claiming  blue  eyes 
really  possess  them.  There  are  but  two  positive 


22  MR.   PHILLIPS'   GONENESS. 

colors  in  eyes,  —  black  and  blue.  The  brown  eye 
is  but  an  unsuccessful  attempt  to  be  black ;  the 
gray  eye  is  a  futile  endeavor  to  be  blue ;  the  hazel 
eye  is  an  unhappy  reach  after  both. 

"Where  have  you  been,  Lucy?"  asked  Tom, 
after  a  few  minutes'  silence. 

"  I  have  been  to  the  post-office.  Did  you  come 
direct  here  from  your  office  ? " 

"Yes." 

"  It  is  odd  I  didn't  see  you,"  she  said. 

It  may  have  been  strange  that  she  did  not  see 
him  on  the  way,  but  not  at  all  strange  that  he 
didn't  see  her.  It  is  more  than  likely  that  he 
would  have  climbed  directly  over  her,  without  so 
much  as  noticing  her  presence,  in  his  eagerness  to 
reach  her  sister.  However,  he  did  not  say  so. 

Shortly  after,  Lucy  retired  to  the  kitchen  fire, 
and  the  lovers  were  left  to  themselves. 

Tom  Griggs  was  coming  every  night  to  the 
Bayard  mansion.  He  and  Annie  were  betrothed, 
and  in  a  few  long  (as  contemplated)  weeks  they 
were  to  be  married.  So  Tom  came  every  night ; 
and,  often  as  it  was,  it  was  scarcely  often  enough. 
The  days  were  long  and  tedious  to  both  of  them ; 
and  they  were  mostly  consumed,  we  fear,  in  an- 
ticipating and  longing  for  the  night.  To  these 
two  devoted  souls  the  day  which  was  to  unite 
them  forever  in  this  life  was  most  eagerly  yearned 
after.  If  Editor  Griggs,  in  his  capacity  as  pub- 
lisher, had  been  deputed  to  bring  out  an  almanac, 
it  is  reasonable  to  suppose  that  the  volume  would 


THE  EDITOR   IN  AN  UNOFFICIAL  LIGHT.      2$ 

be  chiefly  noted  for  the  brevity  of  its  contents 
before  his  wedding-clay,  and  for  their  abundance 
ever  after.  Fortunately  for  the  interests  of  the 
world  at  large,  he  was  not-thus  deputed. 

Mrs.  Bayard  had  returned  from  a  survey  and  a 
diagnosis  of  Mrs.  Quimby's  throat;  Mr.  Bayard 
had  got  back  from,  and  lost  all  consciousness  of, 
the  church  business-meeting  ;  and  Lucy  had  merged 
her  waking  dream  into  that  of  sleep,  —  when  Tom 
Griggs'  sexton  had  performed  the  last  office  for 
the  night. 

If  our  editor  failed  to  hear  the  town-clock  strike 
one,  it  was  directly  owing  to  his  not  getting  out- 
doors in  time.  As  he  hurried  along  the  deserted 
streets,  he  gave  utterance  to  a  sentiment  having 
such  a  familiar  sound  as  to  seem  almost  like  an 
echo  from  all  the  generations  gone  before,  — 

"What  a  donkey  I  was  to  stay  so  late!  Here 
I've  got  to  be  up  early  in  the  morning,  with  a  hard 
day's  work  before  me,  and  I  will  feel  like  a  fool  to 
do  it." 

There  are  re-actions. 


24  MR.  PHILLIPS*   GONENESS. 


CHAPTER   III. 

MR.    PHILLIPS   BECOMES   CONFIDENTIAL. 

THE  articles  pertaining  to  Mr.  Phillips'  trade 
gave  him  confidence  in  himself.  Being  surrounded 
by  objects  familiar  develops  our  self-reliance.  They 
make  ourselves  seem  more,  and  strangers  less.  A 
village  young  man,  dressed  in  swell  attire  by  the 
home  tailor,  passes  through  the  familiar  streets 
and  by  the  familiar  objects  with  a  consciousness 
of  his  excellent  appearance  that  he  cannot  help 
feeling.  It  is  born  of  the  circumstances.  The 
garments  fit  him  to  a  nicety.  They  cause  him  to 
be  lifted  up  ;  they  exalt  him.  There  is  nothing 
to  depress  the  bump  of  self-esteem  :  on  the  con- 
trary, there  is  every  thing  to  develop  it,  and  round 
it  into  a  symmetrical  sphere.  He  feels  that  he  is 
"the  observed  of  all  observers."  He  experiences 
no  embarrassment.  He  moves  gracefully.  Going 
into  the  city,  he  encounters  a  radical  change.  It 
amazes  and  depresses  him.  His  clothes  appear 
common ;  the  fit  execrable.  Nobody  gives  them 
admiring  attention.  He  feels  awkward,  out  of 
place,  uncomfortable.  He  is  ill  at  ease,  and  is 
confident  everybody  is  aware  of  it.  He  thought 


MR.  PHILLIPS  BECOMES  CONFIDENTIAL.       25 

to  mix  with  the  city,  and  be  of  the  city ;  but  now 
he  is  as  thoroughly  known  to  be  from  the  country 
as  if  he  were  placarded  as  such  by  a  responsible 
house.  It  is  a  disheartening  experience,  but  valu- 
able if  rightly  heeded. 

With  the  smell  of  the  type  and  the  ink  ascending 
his  nostrils,  and  the  various  articles  of  his  trade 
filling  his  sight,  Mr.  Phillips  immediately  "  felt  at 
home,"  —  a  phrase  expressing  ease  of  manner. 
In  a  brief  time  he  had  satisfactorily  explored  the 
antecedents  of  Redner,  and  possessed  himself  of 
much  valuable  information.  It  was  very  comfort- 
ing information,  too,  in  that  it  showed  him  that 
the  fund  of  printing  knowledge  carried  around  by 
the  stranger  was  not  sufficient  to  excite  an  alarm 
in  his  own  breast  of  being  superseded.  The  fore- 
man of  a  country  printing-office  is  a  susceptible 
being,  of  strikingly  apprehensive  tendencies. 

In  return  for  the  information  extracted  from  the 
new  journeyman,  Mr.  Phillips  acquainted  him  with 
various  essential  facts,  including  the  circulation  of 
"  The  Gazette ; "  the  length  of  time  he  had  been 
there ;  his  ability  as  a  printer ;  Mr.  Griggs'  de- 
pendence upon  him ;  the  uplifted  condition  of  the 
entire  office  now,  as  compared  to  what  it  was  when 
he  took  charge ;  with  a  summary  of  the  demands 
of  the  trade,  and  the  inability  of  other  printers, 
with  scarcely  an  exception,  to  cope  with  them. 

Having  contributed  -these  well-digested  bits  of 
information  for  the  edification  of  his  companion, 
he  said  that  they  might  as  well  be  getting  toward 


26  MR.  PHILLIPS'   GONENESS. 

Quimby's,  which  the  other  favoring,  they  departed. 
On  their  way  through  the  main  street,  Mr.  Phillips 
kindly  pointed  out  the  various  business-places, 
tersely  indicating  their  standing  by  the  degree  of 
their  advertising.  The  parties  who  did  not  adver- 
tise at  all,  he  properly  ignored.  He  pointed  out 
the  post-office,  the  banks,  two  new  buildings,  the 
place  where  there  had  been  a  fire  four  months  be- 
fore,—  "an  old  he-one,"  to  use  Mr.  Phillips's  chaste 
imagery, — and  other  objects  of  absorbing  interest. 
Before  one  building,  larger  than  the  others,  he 
suddenly  stopped. 

"This  is  the  hotel,"  he  explained.  "Do  you 
ever  take  any  thing  ? "  There  was  a  shade  of 
anxiety  in  his  voice. 

His  companion  said  he  did  not. 

"I'm  not  in  favor  of  drinking  myself,"  hastily 
confessed  Mr.  Phillips  (people  who  drink  rarely 
are) ;  "but  once  in  a  while  I  believe  a  little  liquor 
does  a  man  good,  especially  after  he's  been  to  work 
as  I  have  to-day.  They've  got  the  best  cider- 
brandy  here  you  ever  set  your  eyes  on." 

Mr.  Phillips,  having  delivered  this  bit  of  sugges- 
tive information,  looked  anxiously  into  the  face  of 
his  companion. 

"  I  don't  think  I  want  any  to-night,  thank  you," 
said  the  young  man.  "  Can  you  get  pie  there  ? " 

"Pie?     Oh,  yes!" 

"Well,  I'll  take  a  piece  of  pie,  then,"  ventured 
the  young  man.  * 

This  offer  struck  Mr.  Phillips  so  favorably,  that 


MR.  PHILLIPS  BECOMES  CONFIDENTIAL.        27 

he  at  once  fell  in  with  it ;  and,  stepping  into  the  bar 
of  the  building,  he  ordered  a  glass  of  cider-brandy 
for  himself,  and  a  quarter  of  pie  for  the  other,  and 
then,  with  a  nod  to  the  stranger,  and  the  intelli- 
gible and  complimentary  observation,  "Here's  to 
you  !  "  decorously  tipped  the  contents  of  the  glass 
down  his  throat.  Having  thus  strengthened  him- 
self, and  provided  for  the  future  welfare  of  his 
new  acquaintance,  he  paid  for  the  articles,  and 
they  returned  to  the  street. 

"  I  can  tell  you,  Redner,  that's  the  stuff ! "  he 
confidentially  observed,  as  they  moved  along.  "  If 
a  man  never  drank  any  thing  but  liquor  like  that, 
there  would  be  mighty  few  drunkards,  I  can  tell 
you."  This  statement  struck  Mr.  Phillips  so  fa- 
vorably, that  he  repeated  it  twice  with  unction. 
Then  he  branched  off  on  other  topics,  which, 
being  taken  on  a  cider-brandy  basis,  were  handled 
most  elaborately. 

Proceeding  through  a  side-street,  Mr.  Phillips 
pointed  to  a  house  across  the  way,  and  said,  — 

"  Griggs'  girl  lives  there." 

"Is  that  so?"  said  Redner.  "Is  she  hand- 
some?" 

"  She's  a  buster,"  pronounced  Mr.  Phillips  with 
great  feeling. 

His  companion  looked  puzzled. 

"She  can  just  lap  over  any  girl  in  these  parts, 
and  don't  you  forget  it,"  said  Mr.  Phillips  strongly. 
"I  have  seen  women  in  my  time, — lots  of  'em; 
but  I  never  saw  the  woman  that  could  hold  a 


28  MR.  PHILLIPS'   GONENESS. 

candle  to  her.  When  you  lay  your  eyes  on  her" 
(here  Mr.  Phillips  took  Redner  impressively  by 
the  arm),  "it  will  rest  'em." 

"  Then  she  is  very  handsome  ? "  said  the  other 
in  a  tone  of  deep  interest. 

"You  can  bet  your  bottom  dollar  on  it,"  af- 
firmed Mr.  Phillips.  "You  ought  to  see  her 
eyes  —  By  Judas !  if  she  ain't  got  the  blackest 
eyes  you  ever  saw !  Not  hard  black  eyes,  you 
know,  but  a  kind  of  a  soft  black,  as  if  they  were 
going  to  melt,  and  run  all  over  her."  Mr.  Phillips 
sighed  heavily  at  this  reflection  ;  but  whether  from 
a  vividness  of  the  delicious  picture  he  had  con- 
jured up,  or  from  a  contemplation  of  the  waste 
suggested  in  the  running  over,  he  did  not  explain. 

"  You  were  saying  "  —  put  in  Redner  with 
heightened  interest. 

"  Oh,  yes  !  "  continued  Mr.  Phillips.  "  But 
there's  no  use  trying  to  do  justice  to  that  girl's 
eyes.  When  she  puts  'em  on  you,  you  feel  just 
like  crawling  under  the  mud  out  of  sight.  It 
makes  a  man  think  he  is  less  than  nothing,  and 
willing  to  swear  to  it.  And  then  her  cheeks !  — 
oh,  my ! "  Mr.  Phillips  smacked  his  lips,  and  smote 
his  hands  in  an  ecstasy  of  feeling. 

"Are  they  rosy?"  interrupted  Redner. 

"Rosy!"  exclaimed  Mr.  Phillips  in  some  dis- 
dain. "  Humph !  That  ain't  no  name  for  it. 
There's  not  another  such  a  pair  of  cheeks  in  all 
Gallowhill.  They  make  me  think  of  a  water- 
melon every  time  I  see  'em.T> 


MR.  PHILLIPS  BECOMES  CONFIDENTIAL.        29 

His  companion  looked  aghast.  But  Mr.  Phillips 
did  not  notice  it.  He  said,  — 

"  You  have  seen  these  awful  dead-ripe  water-mel- 
ons, ain't  you,  that  are  so  red  that  they  look  white 
—  a  sort  of  powdered  white  —  on  the  edges?" 

Redner  nodded. 

"Well,  her  cheeks  are  just  like  that."  Mr. 
Phillips  sighed  again,  and  looked  a  shade  more 
solemn  than  before.  At  this  juncture  he  turned 
into  a  gateway,  observing,  — 

"This  is  Quimby's." 

Without  the  ceremony  of  knocking,  he  passed 
into  the  house ;  and,  leaving  Redner  in  a  small 
sitting-room,  he  went  in  search  of  Mrs.  Quimby. 
In  a  moment  or  so  he  returned,  accompanied  by  a 
heavily  built  lady  with  a  very  red  face,  and  a  throat 
swathed  in  flannel.  A  delicate  odor  of  arnica 
hovered  about  her.  Mr.  Phillips,  introduced  her 
as  Mrs.  Quimby.  She  told  Redner,  in  a  slightly 
masculine  voice,  that  he  was  welcome,  and  said  he 
must  pardon  her  appearance,  as  she  was  suffering 
from  an  attack  of  sore  throat. 

"It's  an  old  enemy  of  mine,  and  gives  me  a 
sight  of  trouble,"  she  explained.  "I  do  every 
thing  for  it,  and  try  every  thing,  and  have  had  the 
doctors  fuss  with  it ;  but  nothing  does  any  good. 
It  is  there ;  an'  it's  likely  it'll  stay  there  as  long  as 
I'm  alive.  No  one  can  tell  what  I  suffer  from  it ; 
for  I  don't  believe  in  making  a  great  hue-an'-cry 
over  myself.  But,  if  ninety -nine  out  of  a  hundred 
women  had  my  complaint,  they'd  never  think  of 


30  MR.  PHILLIPS'  GONENESS. 

getting  out  of  bed.  But  I  keep  up  an'  moving 
around.  It's  only  my  ambition  that  keeps  me  up, 
though.  If  it  wa'n't  for  that,  I'd  go  down  in  a 
heap  many  a  time.  But  what's  the  use  of  giving 
up,  an'  going  to  bed  ?  It's  all  folly.  People  say 
to  me,  '  Why,  Mrs.  Quimby,  how  do  you  keep  up 
so  ?  I  should  think  you'd  be  abed  a-doctorin'  your- 
self/ says  they.  '  But  what's  the  use  ? '  I  tell  'em. 
'If  I  went  to  bed,  I'd  just  tumble  around,  an'  think 
of  the  work ;  an'  it  wouldn't  do  me  a  bit  of  good.' 
No,  indeed :  work  it  off,  is  my  motto ;  an'  work  it 
off  I  do.  No  one  hears  me  complain ;  for  I  don't 
believe  in  whining  an'  grumbling :  they  never  did 
any  good  ;  they  only  make  things  worse.  No  one 
hears  me  doing  it :  do  they,  Mr.  Phillips  ?  " 

Mr.  Phillips  started  like  one  suddenly  awakened 
from  a  drowse,  and  unhappily  said,  "  Yes,  indeed ! " 

"Why,  Mr.  Phillips!  when  do  I  ever  com- 
plain ? "  demanded  the  amazed  and  grieved  lady. 

Mr.  Phillips,  being  now  thoroughly  awake, 
hastily  explained  that  he  was  so  engrossed  in 
thinking  of  a  programme  in  two  colors  which  he 
had  to  get  out  the  next  day,  that  he  was  afraid  he 
might  not  have  perfectly  heard  her  question. 
Mrs.  Quimby  repeated  it.  Then  Mr.  Phillips 
promptly  said,  — 

"  I  guess  you  don't." 

This  point  being  satisfactorily  settled,  and  it 
further  transpiring,  as  admitted  by  himself,  that 
Mr.  Redner  never  had  had  any  throat  -  trouble, 
the  terms  of  board  were  agreed  upon.  Mrs. 


MR.  PHILLIPS  BECOMES  CONFIDENTIAL.        31 

Quimby  was  sorry  she  could  not  give  him  a  room 
to  himself  at  present ;  and  he  would  have  to  share 
Mr.  Phillips'  room,  which?- that  gentleman  kindly 
offered,  and  which,  having1  a  fire,  would  be,  on  the 
whole,  quite  as  agreeable.  The  new  boarder  being 
satisfied  with  this  arrangement,  he  was  escorted 
by  Mr.  Phillips  to  the  room. 

It  was  a  very  good-sized  apartment,  and  con- 
tained, in  addition  to  a  bed,  a  cot,  which  Mr. 
Phillips  indicated  to  his  company  that  he  was  to 
occupy.  He  further  showed  him  the  closet  for  his 
clothes,  the  wash-stand,  &c.,  and>  then  withdrew 
for^  a  few  minutes.  During  his  absence  Redner 
unpacked  his  valise,  and  arranged  his  articles  of 
apparel  for  the  occupancy  of  the  room.  Several 
volumes  of  novels  and  a  story-paper  were  among 
his  effects.  Of  these  he  appeared  to  be  very 
choice ;  and,  after  he  got  through  with  the  valise, 
he  took  a  seat  by  the  fire,  opened  the  paper,  and 
became  at  once  absorbed  in  its  contents.  When 
Mr.  Phillips  returned,  he  found  him  thus  engaged. 

"What's  that  you're  reading?  " 

"A  story.  Do  you  ever  read  romances,  Mr. 
Phillips  ? " 

"  Not  many.  When  I  was  a  boy  I  didn't  do 
much  of -any  thing  else  ;  but  I  don't  have  time  for 
that  business  now." 

"  How  old  is  Annie  Bayard  ?  " 

"About  twenty,  I  should  say,"  replied  Mr.  Phil- 
lips, taking  off  his  coat  and  hat,  and  drawing  a 
chair  up  to  the  fire.  "By  jinks!  this  is  comfort/ 


32  MR.  PHILLIPS'   GONENESS. 

ain't  it  ? "  he  added,  with  an  air  of  satisfaction,  as 
he  spread  his  palms  to  the  heat. 

"  Yes  :  it  is  cosey,"  indorsed  Redner.  ".  How 
long  has  Mr.  Griggs  kept  company  with  Miss 
Bayard  ? " 

"  About  a  year,  I  think,  though  it  may  be 
longer.  It's  curious  what  a  difference  there  is 
sometimes  in  people  in  one  family.  Annie  has 
got  a  sister  that  don't  look  any  more  like  her  than 
—  than  "  —  Here  Mr.  Phillips  looked  around  in 
some  desperation  for  an  object  of  comparison. 
"  Well,  than  I  do,"  he  finally  gasped. 

His  companion  at  once  judged  there  were  points 
of  difference  between  the  two  sisters  that  could 
not  very  well  be  ignored. 

"  Is  she  much  older  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  No  :  she  ain't  so  old  by  a  year  or  thereabouts. 
I  shouldn't  think  Lucy  was  much  over  eighteen." 

"  What  kind  of  a  young  lady  is  she  ? " 

"She's  a  mouse." 

"What  do  you  mean  by  that?"  hastily  de- 
manded Redner. 

"Why,  that  she's  so  quiet.  You  know  they 
say,  *  quiet  as  a  mouse/  although  I  can't  say  that  / 
ever  noticed  any  thing  particularly  quiet  about  a 
mouse.  She's  the  stillest  girl  I  ever  saw.  She 
don't  go  into  company  much,  and  is  rather  pious. 
Do  you  ever  go  around  among  women  much  ? " 

"  Some." 

Mr.  Phillips  was  silent  a  moment,  watching  the 
smoke  from  his  pipe.  Then  fte  bent  his  eyes 
earnestly  on  Redner,  and  asked,  — 


MR.  PHILLIPS  BECOMES  CONFIDENTIAL.        33 

"  Were  you  ever  in  love  ? " 

"I?     No." 

"  Don't  you  like  womertat  all  ? " 

"Oh,  yes  !  I  am  a  great  admirer  of  ladies.  But 
I  am  not  in  love  with  any  particular  one." 

"Don't  you  think,"  asked  Mr.  Phillips,  after 
another  pause,  "  that  woman  is  a  flattener  ? " 

"A  flattener?"  repeated  Redner,  opening  his 
eyes  in  astonishment. 

"Why,  yes;  that  is,  don't  you  think  she  is  a 
knock-over  sort  of  thing?" 

The  young  man's  face  not  expressing  a  clear 
comprehension  of  this,  Mr.  Phillips  was  obliged  to 
be  more  exact. 

"What  I  mean  is,  that  she's  a  settler,  —  kinder 
knocks  the  life  out  of  you,  you  know." 

Redner  was  obliged  to  confess  that  he  had  never 
felt  compelled  to  view  the  sex  in  that  light. 

"  But  it  is  so,"  affirmed  Mr.  Phillips  gloomily ; 
"and,  when  you've  had  experience  with  'em,  you 
will  know  it  for  a  fact.  I  have  been  there,  and  I 
know.  I  might  have  been  married  twice  over 
before  now,  if  it  wa'n't  for  that."  At  this  juncture 
Mr.  Phillips  fell  back  on  the  pipe,  smoking  rapidly. 

"  You  have  been  in  love,  then  ? "  Redner  ven- 
tured to  inquire,  after  a  moment's  silence. 

"  I  suppose  it  can  be  called  that,"  whiffed  Mr. 
Phillips. 

"  Was  the  lady  —  was  the  lady  averse  to  the 
offer?" 

It  was  a  delicate  question,  and  hesitatingly 
propounded. 


34  MR.   PHILLIPS'   GONENESS. 

"  I  never  found  out,"  gloomily  replied  Mr.  Phil- 
lips. 

"How  was  that?" 

"Because  woman  is  a  flattener,"  was  the  short 
reply. 

"I  am  afraid  I  do  not  understand  you,"  said 
Redner. 

"  It  is  easy  enough  to  understand  if  you  had 
been  there,"  answered  Mr.  Phillips,  refilling  his 
pipe.  "  A  woman  is  all  right  when  looked  at,  like 
a  jack-knife  or  a  saw-mill  or  a  panorama  ;  but  when 
you  get  fastened  to  her,  when  you  get  all  twisted 
up  in  her,  when  your  heart  and  mind  is  all  in  a 
condemned  tangle  and  snarl,  —  then  she  is  an 
altogether  different  object;  then  she  becomes  a 
flattener,  a  keel-overer.  When  you  go  to  say  any 
thing  to  her,  you  can't  do  it ;  and,  for  all  you  know 
about  what's  what,  you  might  as  well  be  standing 
on  your  muddled  head  in  the  middle  of  Patagonia. 
Yes,  sir,  I  might  have  been  married  twice  over,  if 
it  wa'n't  for  that ;  but  my  blamed  stomach  comes 
back  on  me  every  time."  Mr.  Phillips'  face  had 
been  lowering  all  the  while  he  was  speaking,  and 
at  this  juncture  the  ferocity  of  its  expression  was 
really  alarming.  "Yes,  sir,  every  time,"  he  con- 
tinued, smiting  his  knee.  "I  get  along  all  right 
until  I  come  to  the  sticking-point,  and  then  I 
flop  ker-chunk.  My  blamed  stomach  comes  back 
on  me,  and  I  fizzle  out  like  a  busted  bladder." 
The  foreman  of  "  The  Gazette  "  pulled  vigorously 
at  his  pipe  for  a  moment.  "  I  have  such  a  sinking 


MR.  PHILLIPS  BECOMES  CONFIDENTIAL.        35 

right  here,"  placing  his  hand  on  his  abdomen,  and 
sighing  solemnly,  "as  if  my  palate,  loaded  with 
old  iron,  had  dropped  there.  I  can't  tell  how  it  is  ; 
but  there  is  such  an  awful  goneness  right  in  the 
pit  of  my  stomach,  that  it  takes  away  my  breath 
as  clean  as  if  it  was  whipped  out  of  me  by  the 
kick  of  a  mule." 

After  this  explanation,  Mr.  Phillips  moodily 
pulled  away  at  the  pipe ;  while  his  companion, 
feeling  perhaps  that  the  sorrow  was  far  beyond 
the  reach  of  sympathy,  offered  no  comment. 

It  was  some  ten  minutes  before  the  silence  was 
broken.  Mr.  Phillips  emptied  his  pipe,  and  an- 
nounced he  would  go  to  bed,  —  a  purpose  he  imme- 
diately put  into  execution.  Redner  also  retired, 
but  not  to  sleep.  He  lay  in  his  bed,  looking  at 
the  moving  shadows  as  formed  by  the  flickering 
light  from  the  stove,  and  pondering  on  woman  as 
revealed  to  him  in  the  new  and  somewhat  startling 
character  of  "a  flattener." 


36  MR.   PHILLIPS'   GONENESS. 


CHAPTER   IV. 

PUBLICATION    DAY. 

UNDER  the  convoy  of  the  estimable  Mr.  Phillips, 
the  stranger  reached  the  office  of  "  The  Gazette  " 
and  the  field  of  his  labor  shortly  after  seven 
o'clock  the  next  morning.  The  foreman,  being 
entirely  free  of  all  trace  of  the  influence  of  flat- 
tening, was  wholly  absorbed  in  the  duties  of  the 
day.  He  gave  Redner  a  case,  and  piece  of  reprint 
from  a  county  paper  for  copy,  and  introduced  him 
to  a  middle-aged  man,  of  consumptive  aspect,  who 
had  a  case  at  his  side.  This  party  had  a  thin, 
reddish  beard,  and  a  very  white  face,  and  looked 
as  if  he  had  been  composed  of  the  ingredients  of 
a  printing-office,  so  thoroughly  did  he  seem  to  par- 
take of  the  "nature  of  the  metal  and  ink  and  oil 
and  paper  around  him.  Redner  saw  that  the  other 
employees  were  a  young  man  of  about  his  own 
age,  who  appeared  dissipated,  and  a  boy  of  some 
fifteen  summers,  who,  early  as  it  was  in  the  day, 
had  got  a  pretty  smart  sprinkling  of  ink  on  his 
hands  and  face.  Redner  noticed,  that,  whenever  he 
looked  toward  these  two,  they  were  in  the  very  act 
of  taking  their  gaze  from  him.  He  did  not  know 


PUBLICATION  DAY.  37 

that  they  had  heard  already  that  he  was  from  the 
great  city  of  Boston,  or  that  a  city  youth  pos- 
sesses a  peculiar  charm  Ux-a  village  youth.  At  his 
case  he  could  command  a  view  of  the  door  and  the 
sanctum.  Mr.  Griggs  had  jiot  yet  arrived  ;  but  his 
desk  was  not  quite  idle,  as  Mr.  Phillips  was  fre- 
quently there  getting  copy,  and  looking  into  letters 
and  other  papers.  All  the  proceedings  of  the  busi- 
ness had  an  attraction  to  Redner.  It  was  his  first 
experience  in  a  country  printing-office.  He  was 
surprised  at  the  familiarity  existing  on  the  part  of 
the  employees  toward  the  foreman,  which  did 
not  appear  to  be  heartily  reciprocated  by  him. 
Even  the  "devil"  called  him  Ez.  He  noticed,  also, 
the  familiarity  of  the  employees  with  the  office 
itself  and  the  office  terms.  So  conspicuous  was 
this,  that  he  could  not  help  noticing  it.  In  their 
use  of  the  terms,  it  was  charming  to  note  the  care- 
lessness of  the  utterance,  as  if  these  expressions 
were  common,  every-day  matters,  and  not  brought 
out  for  the  occasion.  Strangers  visiting  a  printing- 
office  are  startled  by  the  flippancy  with  which  the 
"hell-box"  is  referred  to,  the  "devil"  inquired 
after,  and  the  "dead"  disposed  of.  There  is  that 
to  knowledge  which  makes  it  a  delight  to  air  itself, 
unless  there  is  a  great  deal  of  it. 

In  addition  to  all,  it  seemed  to  fall  upon  the 
sandy-bearded  man  to  be  captious,  the  youth  of 
twenty  to  be  indifferent,  and  the  boy  with  the 
inked  features  to  be  impudent ;  and  on  all  a  spirit 
of  remark  upon  contributors  and  advertisers  that 


3 8  MR.   PHILLIPS'   GONENESS. 

was  certainly  conspicuous  for  breadth  and  freedom. 
The  dissipated  youth  and  the  "  devil  "  said  "naw" 
when  answering  in  the  negative,  and  "  damn  "  fre- 
quently, and  were  much  addicted  to  a  short,  scorn- 
ful laugh.  All  their  profanity,  like  their  slang, 
was  delivered  with  a  peculiar  unction.  These 
two  showed  a  disposition  to  appear  ten  years  older 
than  they  really  were,  and  quite  often  made  a 
painful  exhibition  of  the  effort.  Redner  learned 
that  the  sandy-whiskered  man  was  named  Hazel- 
ton  ;  the  dissipated  youth,  Joe  Goodwin ;  and  the 
boy,  Henry  Vanderlip, — which  name  had  been 
happily  brought  down  to  "  Lippy  "  by  the  office. 
All  smoked  and  chewed. 

About  eight  o'clock  Mr.  Griggs  appeared,  and 
briskly  took  position  at  the  desk,  although  his 
eyes  had  any  thing  but  a  wide-awake  expression. 
Ezekiah  was  immediately  in  consultation  with 
him,  and  frequently  thereafter.  These  consulta- 
tions appeared  to  consist,  on  the  part  of  Mr. 
Griggs,  in  assertion,  and  on  the  part  of  Mr.  Phil- 
lips in  protestation,  and  referred  mainly  to  an  en- 
deavor on  the  part  of  the  former  to  squeeze  two 
columns  of  copy  into  one  column  of  space.  Mr. 
Phillips  acted  as  the  representative  of  space,  and 
maintained  a  gallant,  although  not  always  success- 
ful, fight  in  its  behalf.  Redner  noticed,  as  the  day 
advanced,  that  Ezekiah  became  more  wary,  yet 
agressive,  while,  Mr.  Griggs  grew  correspondingly 
timid  and  propitiatory,  even  handing  out  the  copy 
toward  the  last  in  an  apologetic  manner.  The  new 
journeyman  wondered  very  much  at  this. 


PUB LIC A  TION  DA  Y.  39 

Every  few  minutes  through  the  day  he  saw  the 
door  open,  and  some  one  appear.  These  em- 
braced a  variety  of  people.  Early  in  the  hour 
they  seemed  to  consist  mostly  of  slim  persons, 
neatly  dressed,  and  of  a  bustling  air,  who  dealt 
directly  with  the  proprietor,  and  who  appeared  to 
be  advertisers,  judging  from  their  remarks.  He 
further  noticed  that  those  of  this  lot  who  came  the 
latest  had  the  longest  advertisements  to  insert,  and 
that  their  favors  were  not  new  notices,  but  changes 
of  those  already  in.  These  men  had  a  great  deal 
to  say,  and  appeared  much  surprised  by  what  they 
heard,  and  caused  Mr.  Griggs  much  anxiety.  It 
was  also  noticeable  that  the  very  prominent  face 
of  Mr.  Phillips  gave  increased  evidence  of  disgust 
at  every  one  of  these  calls,  and  that  it  presented 
to  the  occasionally  appealing  glances  of  Editor 
Griggs  a  most  uncompromising  aspect.  So  greatly 
were  Mr.  Phillips'  feelings  worked  upon  by  these 
advents,  that  every  little  while  he  would  retire 
behind  one  of  the  racks,  and,  after  a  profane  tussle 
with  an  imaginary  adversary,  would  re-appear,  ap- 
parently very  much  strengthened  thereby,  and 
more  defiant  than  before. 

Two  or  three  of  the  visitors  appeared  to  have  so 
little  object,  that  their  aimlessness  was  as  much  a 
part  of  them  as  their  clothes.  They  slouched  in 
hesitatingly,  looked  about  furtively,  dealt  in  forced 
smiles,  and  suggested  to  Redner  that  they  had 
been  created  without  special  reference  to  their 
use,  but  in  the  rather  vague  hope  that  they  would 


40  MR.  PHILLIPS'   GONENESS. 

some  time  prove  available  for  "  filling  in."  They 
may  have  come  in  to  learn  if  the  paper  was  out, 
as  each  one  asked  the  question ;  but,  as  they  did 
not  go  on  being  informed,  that  could  not  have 
been  the  real  object.  They  moved  about  the 
room,  looking  at  the  forms ;  standing  by  the  com- 
positors, with  whom  they  seemed  acquainted ;  ask- 
ing harmless  questions ;  picking  up  articles  of  the 
trade,  and  closely  scrutinizing  them ;  and  picking 
up  newspapers  or  bills  which  they  saw  on  the  floor 
or  stands,  and  listlessly  looking  at  them.  Each 
one  of  these  staid  an  hour  or  so,  got  thoroughly 
warmed,  and  as  much  in  the  way  as  possible,  and 
then  drifted  out  doors. 

Occasionally  an  elderly  gentleman  would  come 
in,  and  talcing  out  his  glasses  and  wiping  them, 
and  attending  to  his  nose,  and  dusting  off  a  chair, 
would  seat  himself ;  performing  all  these  acts  in  a 
methodical  manner,  that,  while  it  was  not  exactly 
exciting,  certainly  possessed  a  peculiar  fascination 
to  the  observer.  On  settling  himself,  and  learning 
that  the  paper  was  not  printed,  the  elderly  gentle- 
man would  peer  anxiously  among  the  exchanges ; 
make  a  few  suggestions  of  a  valuable,  but  some- 
what intricate,  nature ;  inquire  who  had  written 
some  certain  article  that  had  appeared  the  week 
before,  if  so-and-so  had  any  thing  in  the  coming 
paper ;  and  then,  removing  his  glasses  and  restor- 
ing them,  and  again  attending  to  his  nose,  would 
say  he  didn't  know  what  the  poor  were  going  to 
do  this  winter ;  and  finally  depart,  leaving .  the 
door  unlatched. 


PUB  LIC A  TION  DAY.  41 

By  far  the  largest  number  of  visitors  as  to  class 
were  those  who  came  merely  to  inquire  if  the 
paper  was  out.  Redner  was  surprised  at  the  size 
of  this  multitude ;  and  ha'd  he  not  had  a  verbal 
statement  of  the  circulation  of  "  The  Gazette,"  and 
the  pile  of  paper  ready  for  the  press  before  him, 
would  have  readily  believed  that  the  number  of 
copies  printed  was  fully  eight  times  greater  than 
it  really  was.  There  was  considerable  variety  to 
this  number,  both  in  their  appearance  and  conduct. 
The  greater  part  were  horny-handed  and  heavily 
bearded  men,  who  were  muffled  heavily  about  the 
neck,  and  stepped  heavily.  They  evidently  lived  in 
the  outer  districts,  and  would  like  to  take  the  pa- 
per home  with  them ;  they  appeared  somewhat 
disappointed  in  not  finding  the  paper  ready,  and 
seemed  inclined  to  stand  by  the  stove,  and  stare 
about  the  room,  but  particularly  at  the  type- 
setters. Of  the  others,  many  made  comments  of 
a  derogatory  or  facetious  or  sarcastic  nature,  cal- 
culated to  reflect  on  the  character  of  the  office  in 
the  matter  of  promptness. 

There  was  another  lot,  who  appeared  to  have 
something  they  wanted  published  in  the  present 
issue ;  and  Editor  Griggs  was  obliged  to  devote 
one-third  of  his  time  in  expostulating  with,  or  ex- 
plaining to,  or  smoothing  down,  these  clients. 

Redner  noticed,  that,  as  the  hours  advanced,  his 
enfployer's  nervousness  increased  ;  that  his  face 
became  flushed,  his  movements  jerky  and  uncer- 
tain, and  his  tones  peevish.  In  the  proof-reading 


42  MR.  PHILLIPS^   GONENESS. 

he  would  frequently  launch  an  execration  at  the 
head  of  one  of  the  compositors,  and  the  victim 
would  respond  in  an  injured  tone  that  was  audible, 
and  in  another  tone  that  was  not  so. 

Mr.  Phillips  himself  was  not  less  affected  than 
his  superior.  His  temper,  which  was  none  too 
good  at  the  start,  had  become  so  sore  and  inflamed 
as  to  fill  Redner  with  the  liveliest  apprehension  of 
the  result.  He  appeared  to  look  upon  every  vis- 
itor who  gave  any  indication  of  having  manuscript 
on  his  person  as  an  unprincipled  scoundrel,  who 
was  working  in  an  underhand  way  for  the  destruc- 
tion of  the  establishment,  and  felt  it  to  be  his 
sacred  duty  to  scowl  at  him  with  a  degree  of  fe- 
rocity that  was  beyond  describing. 

At  the  last  hour,  nearly  all  the  spare  space  of 
the  office  was  filled  with  anxious  persons,  who 
watched  every  movement  with  so  much  intentness 
as  to  be  very  gratifying  to  the  bustling  Mr.  Phil- 
lips, who,  having  the  forms  of  the  paper  so  far 
advanced  as  to  effectually  shut  out  the  introduc- 
tion of  more  copy,  was  relieved  of  a  great  incubus, 
and  had  only  to  take  care  of  and  exhibit  the  dig- 
nity of  his  position  to  the  best  advantage.  It  was 
really  a  delight  to  watch  him,  observing  the  swift- 
ness of  his  movements,  and  the  splurge  of  his 
manner;  while  to  see  him  cuff  the  "devil"  on  the 
side  of  the  head,  or  fling  a  quoin — which  either 
did  not  fit  or  was  broken  —  across  the  room,  was 
a  most  enjoyable  sensation. 

Finally,  the  forms  were  made  ready,  and  put  on 


PUBLICATION  DAY.  43 

the  press  ;  the  "  devil  "  took  his  place  at  the  distribu- 
tor ;  and  the  press  started.  As  fast  as  copies  were 
turned  out,  the  waiting  readers  seized  them,  until 
all  were  supplied.  Redner  was  directed  to  fold,  in 
which  occupation  he  had  the  improving  com- 
panionship of  the  dissipated  youth.  Occasionally 
the  dissipated  youth  would  relieve  Mr.  Phillips  at 
the  press.  It  was  nearly  ten  o'clock  at  night 
when  the  last  paper  was  worked  off,  and  the  "devil " 
was  then  in  a  state  of  ink,  from  his  heel  to  his 
crown,  that  was  simply  amazing. 

Mr.  Griggs  had  gone  away  at  nine  o'clock, —  "  to 
Bayard's,"  Mr.  Phillips  whispered ;  and  the  hands 
were  left  to  attend  to  the  papers  that  were  to  go 
by  mail  the  next  morning.  At  eleven  o'clock 
Redner  and  the  foreman  started  home ;  the  latter 
stopping  at  the  hotel  to  "  brace  up,"  and  the  former 
taking  a  piece  of  pie,  of  which  he  appeared  to  be 
quite  fond.  Before  midnight  the  young  man  was 
abed,  and  dreaming  that  a  roll  of  manuscript  had 
come  into  the  office  of  "The  Gazette,"  and  that 
Mr.  Phillips  had  brained  it  with  the  shooting-stick 
at  the  very  threshold  of  the  door. 


44  MR.  PHILLIPS*  GONENESS. 


CHAPTER  V. 

AT   THE    PRAYER-MEETING. 

THE  new  journeyman,  on  the  following  evening, 
finding  a  discussion  on  liquor-drinking  between 
Mr.  Quimby  and  Mr.  Phillips  did  not  interest  him, 
left  those  two  worthies  thus  engaged  in  the  little 
back  sitting-room  of  his  boarding-house,  and  took 
a  stroll  through  the  village,  to  make  himself  ac- 
quainted with  some  of  its  features.  It  was  a 
clear,  bright  night ;  and  Redner,  walking  through 
the  crisp  air,  divided  his  time  on  Main  Street  be- 
tween the  stars  and  the  ladies  he  chanced  to 
encounter.  He  walked  leisurely,  the  restless  ex- 
pression of  his  eyes  somewhat  modified.  He  fol- 
lowed Main  Street  nearly  the  length  of  its  busi- 
ness-section, but  showed  little  or  no  interest  in 
the  stores.  Many  of  them  had  dingy  fronts,  of 
small  glass,  dimly  lighted  by  kerosene-lamps ;  as 
gas  in  Gallowhill  was  five  dollars  a  thousand,  and 
the  country  merchants  found  it  necessary  to  econo- 
mize. But,  listlessly  as  he  moved,  he  could  not 
avoid  noticing  that  the  fronts  of  the  hardware- 
stores  showed  less  light  than  any  of  the  others, 
and  that  the  inside  of  the  doors  was  hung  with 


AT  THE  PRAYER-MEETING.  45 

whips  and  sleigh-bells  and  chains.  Beyond  this  he 
showed  no  interest  in  the^places  of  business,  but 
walked  along,  looking  intently  into  the  faces  of 
the  females  he  met.  Crossing  a  street  that  inter- 
sected Main  Street,  he  heard  a  church-bell  ring. 
He  looked  up  the  street  whence  the  sound  came, 
but  saw  no  light  to  indicate  the  presence  of  the 
building.  For  a  moment  he  paused  irresolutely, 
as  if  debating  a  point,  and  then  he  abruptly  turned 
in  an  opposite  direction.  The  starlight  and  the 
snowlight  showed  him  that  he  was  on  a  street  of 
private  houses,  with  capacious  front-yards,  darkened 
by  sombre  evergreens.  He  walked  in  this  direc- 
tion for  some  little  distance,  but,  encountering 
nobody,  turned  about,  and  retraced  his  way.  On 
returning  to  Main  Street,  he  recalled  the  tolling 
bell,  and,  after  a  moment's  pause,  went  up  the 
street  leading  to  it. 

A  moment  of  quick  stepping  brought  him  to  the 
church.  There  was  an  open  door  leading  into  the 
porch  of  the  basement.  He  went  in  there,  and 
listened  a  moment  to  the  sounds  coming  from  the 
room  beyond.  Some  one  was  either  talking  or 
praying.  As  the  voice  ceased,  he  passed  into  the 
room,  and  found  himself  in  a  prayer-meeting. 

There  was  rro  difficulty  in  securing  a  seat.  A 
very  fair-sized  battalion  of  troops  could  have  been 
accommodated  without  seriously  crowding  the  con- 
gregation. It  was  not  a  particularly  attractive 
room,  although  Redner's  restless  eyes  kept  upon 
the  people,  and  failed  to  notice  this.  The  ceiling 


46  MR.  PHILLIPS1   GONENESS. 

was  low,  and  the.  plaster  cracked  and  stained. 
The  walls  were  relieved  here  and  there  from  the 
monotony  of  color  by  a  biblical'  map  or  a  scriptu- 
ral text,  the  nature  of  which  showed  that  the 
apartment  was  used  for  Sunday-school  purposes 
also.  The  floor  was  covered  with  well-worn  mat- 
ting ;  the  sittings  were  settees  without  cushions ; 
a  large  stove  stood  in  the  middle  of  the  room ;  a 
dozen  or  so  of  posts  sustained  the  floor  above,  and 
served  to  screen  as  many  timid  brethren  from 
range  of  the  leader's  vision.  This  person  was  a 
short,  stout  man,  with  a  sandy  beard,  light-colored 
eyes,  and  a  very  austere  shirt-collar.  His  chair 
was  on  a  raised  platform,  back  of  a  small  table. 
The  room  was  capable  of  seating  three  hundred 
persons.  About  one-tenth  of  that  number  were 
present.  A  majority  of  these  were  females,  and 
the  greater  part  of  all  were  of  middle  age  and 
beyond.  There  were  three  little  folks  present,  — 
two  girls  and  a  boy.  The  little  girls  were  very 
prim  ;  and  the  little  boy  appeared  to  be  nearly,  if 
not  wholly,  petrified.  The  room  was  scarcely  more 
sombre  than  the  people,  and  each  seemed  to  be  in 
keeping  with  the  other.  It  was  the  temple  of  the 
Lord  of  the  universe  >  and  these  were  his  people 
come  to  rejoice  and  be  glad  in  his  presence,  with- 
out doubt. 

Nearly  every  eye  was  turned  on  Redner  when 
he  entered,  and  many  glances  were  cast  toward 
him  during  the  service.  As  he  took  a  seat,  the 
leader  gave  out  a  hymn.  It  was  a  heavy  hymn 


AT  THE  PRAYER-MEETING.  47 

with  a  heavy  air,  and  seemed  to  require  that  the 
voices  should  get  way  down  under  it  to  lift  it  up, 
and  set  it  going  all  right.  After  this  labor  was 
performed,  and  the  gloom  of  the  apartment  ap- 
peared to  densify  under  its  pulsation,  the  leader 
observed,  with  fixed  solemnity,  — 

"  We  have  come  together,  brethren  and  sisters, 
for  the  purpose  of  conference  and  prayer.  This  is 
one  of  the  most  blessed  privileges  vouchsafed  us 
in  our  religious  life;  and  we  should  come  with  our 
offerings,  rejoicing  that  we  have  the  opportunity 
to  contribute  in  so  good  a  cause.  I  hope  to-night 
that  there  will  be  no  delays,  but  that  each  one 
will  be  ready  with  a  word  of  testimony  for  the 
Lord,  taking  up  his  cross  promptly  and  cheerfully, 
and  so  making  it  an  active,  pleasant,  and  profitable 
service.  Don't  let  there  be  any  waiting  one  for 
another,  but  all  pray  or  speak  as  they  see  fit." 

There  was  an  oppressive  pause  of  a  full  mo- 
ment's duration  after  this,  during  which  the  leader 
looked  stonily  ahead,  as  if  he  had  fully  discharged 
his  duty  in  the  matter,  and  was  relieved  of  all 
responsibility  for  the  consequences.  And  then 
he  said,  "Brother  Mercer,  will  you  lead  us  in 
prayer?" 

In  response  to  this  request,  a  large  man  with 
very  little  hair  on  his  head  laboriously  rose, 
clasped  his  hands  reverently  across  his  stomach, 
and,  closing  his  eyes  heavily,  proceeded,  in  a  se- 
pulchral voice,  to  spread  out  his  views  before  the 
Almighty.  The  voice  being  not  at  all  natural, 


48  MR.  PHILLIPS'   GONENESS. 

although  adapted,  without  doubt,  to  a  public 
prayer,  required  considerable  effort  to  keep  it  up 
to  the  mark.  For  five  minutes  he  rumbled  on, 
growing  more  grandly  elaborate  in  the  progress, 
and  finally  rounded  off  with  a  sonorous  "Amen." 

Another  pause  followed,  in  which  Brother  Mer- 
cer mopped  off  the  top  of  his  head,  and  looked 
around  upon  the  stolid  faces  about  him  as  if  to 
say,  "  I  think  that  covered  the  ground  in  a  very 
handsome  manner." 

"Don't  let  the  time  go  to  waste,  brethren," 
urged  the  leader,  looking  over  the  congregation 
so  briskly  as  to  cause  the  brethren  back  of  the 
posts  to  contract  themselves  to  a  degree  that  was 
painful. 

Another  large  man  rose.  The  parties  back  of 
the  posts  sighed  and  expanded.  The  large  man 
cleared  his  throat,  —  an  act  imposed  by  his  stand- 
ing up,  undoubtedly, — and,  looking  fixedly  over 
the  heads  of  the  assembly,  sternly  observed,  — 

"Brethren  and  sisters,  it  is  a  blessed  privilege 
to  stand  up  and  testify  for  the  Master.  [Throat] 
He  has  done  every  thing  for  us.  [Throat.]  And 
we  should  be  willing  to  do  every  thing  for  him. 
[Throat.]  To  speak  for  him,  and  to  tell  the  joy 
[throat]  we  feel  in  serving  him,  is  a  duty  we  owe 
him.  [Throat.]  This  is  a  service,  a  blessed  ser- 
vice, that  none  of  us  should  try  to  shirk.  [Throat.] 
As  for  myself,  I  feel  that  the  Lord  has  been  very 
good  to  me.  [Throat.]  And  I  want  to  serve  him 
better  than  I  do.  [Throat.]  We  all  make  crooked 


AT  THE  PRAYER-MEETING.  49 

paths  for  our  feet,  and  wander  away  [throat]  from 
the  strait  and  narrow  path,  which  is  not  right." 
[Three  throats.] 

This  encouraging  summary  of  the  general  spirit- 
ual condition  emboldened  a  tall,  thin  man,  with 
whiskers  under  his  chin,  to  get  up,  and  heartily  in- 
dorse the  sentiment  by  cheerfully  announcing,  — 

"  I  don't  feel  as  if  I  am  in  the  right  way,  breth- 
ren and  sisters.  I  do,  as  the  brother  has  said, 
make  many  crooked  paths  for  my  feet,  and  wander 
in  by  a"nd  forbidden  ways.  I  am  growing  cold  and 
indifferent ;  but,  if  I  know  my  own  heart,  I  know 
that  I  want  to  be  a  better  Christian  :  I  want  to  be 
willing  to  take  up  my  cross  in  these  meetings,  and 
testify  of  His  goodness  to  me.  It  is  a  joy  to  tell 
of  Jesus'  wonderful  goodness.  Let  us  all  take  up 
our  cross,  and  be  more  active.  Pray  for  me,  breth- 
ren and  sisters,  that  I  may  be  more  faithful." 

He  sat  down  with  a  sigh,  and  an  oppressive 
pause  followed. 

"  Now,  let's  hear  from  another,"  said  the  leader 
briskly.  "  I  know  it  is  a  hard  cross  to  get  up  and 
speak  a  word  for  our  Saviour ;  but,  if  we  are  de- 
termined to  do  it,  we  will  find  the  effort  to  be 
easier  and  easier.  Let  us  sing  one  verse  of  '  Am 
I  a  Soldier  of  the  Cross  ? '  and  then  let  some  one 
follow  right  after  in  prayer  or  exhortation." 

The  verse  was  sung  with  due  solemnity,  and 
another  painful  pause  succeeded,  causing  the  zeal- 
ous disciples  back  of  the  posts  to  contract  within 
their  respective  spheres  as  much  as  possible. 


50  MR.   PHILLIPS'   GONENESS. 

"  Don't  let  the  time  go  to  waste,"  besought  the 
leader. 

An  old  man  rose. 

"  I  don't  want  to  take  up  valuable  time,  and  de- 
prive others  of  speaking,"  was  his  ghastly  an- 
nouncement ;  "  but  I  am  always  glad  to  have  an 
opportunity  to  speak  a  word  for  my  Saviour.  I 
have  been  forty  years  in  this  service,  and  I  find 
it  is  a  blessed  service  to  engage  in.  I  have 
done  many  things  in  that  time  which  I  hadn't 
oughter  done,  and  I  have  left  undone  many  things 
that  I  had  oughter  done.  I  hope  none  of  you 
won't  take  me  for  an  example  of  what  to  do,  but 
do  your  full  duty  at  all  times  and  everywhere. 
There's  nothing  like  living  close  up  to  the  mark 
in  the  Christian  life.  The  flesh  is  weak,  as  we've 
been  told ;  but  we  have  One  which  can  help  us, 
who  has  been  tried  as  we  are,  and  knows  just 
what  we  want,  and  will  give  it  to  us  if  we  will  only 
go  to  Him,  and  ask  Him  to  help  us.  Let  us  try  to 
be  more  faithful,  brethren  and  sisters ;  let  us  try 
to  work  more  in  His  vineyard.  The  work  is  easy, 
and  the  pay  is  sure.  Pray  for  me,  that  I  may  ever 
be  found  faithful  and  willing  to  take  up  my  cross." 

After  him  and  another  very  oppressive  pause,  in 
which  the  disciples  back  of  the  posts  threatened 
to  shrink  into  mere  wads  of  cloth,  a  thin  young 
man  laboriously  observed,  — 

"  I  love  Jesus,  and  want  to  take  up  my  cross,  and 
follow  him.  If  there  is  any  one  here  who  hasn't 
come  to  Christ,  I  would  say,  Come  to-night,  and 
take  up  your  cross,  and  follow  him." 


AT  THE  PRAYER-MEETING.  51 

Then  he  sat  down ;  and  the  leader,  after  a 
moment's  waiting,  asked,  -^- 

"  Isn't  there  another  that  has  got  one  word  to 
speak  for  the  Saviour.  He  bore  the  cross  for  us. 
Can  we  not  bear  the  cross  for  him  ?  Just  one 
word."  Here  his  eyes  roamed  over  the  audience, 
to  the  great  discomfort  of  some,  without  doubt. 
"Brother  Reynolds,"  he  pleasantly  called,  as  his 
glance  rested  upon  a  sandy-haired  man,  and  a 
winning  smile  illuminated  his  face,  "  shall  we  not 
have  a  word  from  you  this  evening  ? " 

Brother  Reynolds's  very  white  face  became  very 
red  as  this  mark  of  distinction  smote  him.  He 
struggled  to  his  feet,  and  clung  convulsively  to  the 
back  of  the  seat  in  front  of  him,  — 

"I —  I —  I  am  glad  of  the  oppor —  opportunity 
to  take  up  my  cross,"  he  gratefully  gasped,  "  and 
—  and —  and  I  hope  I —  you —  I  may  be  found 
on  the-e-e-e  side" —  Here  his  voice  nearly  died 
away ;  but  by  a  powerful  effort  he  dove  down,  and 
brought  it  up  :  "  Pray  for  me  that  I  may  be  al- 
ways —  that  I  may  take  up  my  cross.  And " — 
He  paused,  with  a  gurgling  noise  in  his  throat, 
as  if  catching  after  his  treacherous  breath.  "  Pray 
for  me,"  he  despairingly  gasped,  "that  I  may  take 
up  my  cross."  At  this  juncture  his  voice  fell 
through  again,  and  he  straightway  plunged  after 
it,  half  secured  it,  lost  it,  and  dropped  heavily  into 
his  seat ;  and  immediately  drew  out  a  large  hand- 
kerchief, with  which  he  mopped  great  drops  of 
perspiration  from  his  face. 


52  MR.  PHILLIPS'    GONENESS. 

Another  verse  was  sung  at  the  request  of  the 
leader. 

"The  time  is  arrived  for  closing,"  he  said;  "but 
there  may  be  some  one  who  would  like  to  speak  a 
word,  and  we  will  wait  a  moment  longer.  I  do 
not  want  to  deprive  any  one  of  the  opportunity  of 
bearing  the  cross.  It  is  blessed  duty,  brethren 
and  sisters.  Is  there  not  another  ?  We  will  wait 
a  minute." 

He  paused,  and  looked  inquiringly  around  the 
room. 

There  was  the  rustle  of  a  dress,  and  a  young 
woman  rose.  She  had  her  back  toward  Redner, 
so  he  could  not  see  her  face ;  but  her  form  was 
graceful,  and  the  mass  of  hair  that  fell  from  be- 
neath the  fleecy  hood  she  wore  was  very  beauti- 
ful. The  expression  of  lassitude  that  had  settled 
upon  his  countenance  gave  way  immediately  to  a 
look  of  lively  interest,  and  he  opened  his  ears  to 
hear  what  she  would  say.  Her  voice  was  low,  but 
distinct  and  musical. 

"I  do  not  feel  as  if  I  can  go  from  here,"  she 
said,  "without  saying  something  for  my  dear 
Saviour.  His  precious  love  has  filled  my  heart  all 
this  day  ;  and  I  feel  so  happy  in  him,  — far  happier 
than  I  can  tell.  I  thank  him  that  he  loves  me, 
that  he  cares  for  me  so  constantly ;  but  I  thank 
him  above  all  for  his  precious  nearness  to  me  in 
every  hour  of  my  life.  Prayer  is  dear  to  me,  and. 
his  word  is  a  sweet  comfort  to  me.  I  can  say  with 


AT  THE  PRAYER-MEETING.  53 

all  my  heart,  *  The  Lord  is~my  shepherd  ; '  and,  as  I 
say  it,  I  know  that  '  I  shal-l  not  want.' ' 

That  was  all  she  said  ;  but  it  interested  Redner 
more  than  all  the  rest  had  said  put  together,  and 
the  room  itself  seemed  to  grow  brighter  as  she 
said  it. 

Another  hymn  was  sung,  and  the  audience  then 
dismissed.  As  Redner  stood  in  his  place  to  wait 
for  her  to  pass  out,  he  saw  his  employer  in  the 
doorway ;  and,  as  his  glance  fell  on  him,  he  ob- 
served his  eyes  light  up,  and  saw  him  step  quickly 
into  the  room,  his  face  in  a  glow  of  delight,  and 
become  almost  immediately  blended  with  a  happy- 
faced  girl,  whose  own  eyes  fairly  danced  with  glad 
expectation.  Happy  Tom  Griggs  !  How  his  face 
shone !  Redner  could  see  him  quiver  all  over  as 
his  hands  tenderly  adjusted  her  furs ;  and  the 
beautiful  face  that  was  turned  to  his  was  but  a 
reflex  of  his  own  happiness.  The  new  journey- 
man watched  them  walk  away,  saw  her  snug  so 
tightly  up  to  him,  saw  him  bend  so  lovingly  over 
her,  and  then  he  knew  that  this  was  Anna 
Bayard. 

When  he  had  recovered  himself,  the  girl  whose 
words  had  so  deeply  impressed  him  was  passing. 
In  the  same  instant  their  eyes  met.  His  gaze  was 
bent  on  her  with  such  fervency,  that  her  eyes 
dropped  at  once,  and  her  face  flushed.  She  passed 
out  of  the  building  with  an  elderly  man  and 
woman,  whom  Redner  surmised  to  be  her  parents. 
He  immediately  followed  after  them  through  sev- 


54  MR.   PHILLIPS'   GONENESS. 

eral  streets,  until  he  saw  them  disappear  within  a 
house ;  and  standing  opposite,  and  looking  hard  at 
the  premises,  he  recollected  that  it  was  the  house 
that  Phillips  had  pointed  out  to  him  the  night  of 
his  arrival  as  the  home  of  the  Bayards. 


THE  PICTURE   OF  A  HAPPY  FUTURE.         55 


CHAPTER  VI. 

THE  PICTURE   OF   A    HAPPY    FUTURE. 

IT  was  two  o'clock  A.M.,  as  usual,  when  Tom 
Griggs  got  away  from  the  Bayard  mansion  the 
night  of  the  prayer-meeting. 

"It  does  beat  the  devil"  (the  "devil"  is  the 
youngest  apprentice  in  a  printing-office),  he  mused 
to  himself,  as  he  hastened  through  the  deserted 
streets,  "that  I  haven't  got  the  strength  of  mind  to 
leave  at  a  decent  hour.  Here  it  is  near  morning, 
and  I  out  of  bed,  and  a  hard  day's  work  before 
me !  I'll  feel  like  a  fool  in  tjie  morning,  and  it 
will  be  like  pulling  teeth  to  get  me  up.  But  what 
am  I  to  do?"  he  added  despairingly.  "I  swear 
every  time  I  leave  that  the  next  night  I  will  go 
home  at  ten  o'clock ;  but,  when  ten  o'clock  comes, 
it  seems  as  if  I  had  only  been  there  a  minute,  and 
I  cant  go  away.  Dear,  precious  Anna!  God  bless 
you !  In  a  few  days  I  shall  have  you  always  to 
myself,  and  then  there  will  be  no  separating  at 
night."  He  had  lapsed  into  a  slow  pace  as  these 
softening  thoughts  came  to  him  ;  but,-  suddenly 
rousing  himself,  he  started  rapidly  forward. 
"  There's  no  use  talking !  I  must  get  away  earlier 


56  MR.  PHILLIPS'   GONENESS. 

than  this.  It  won't  do  :  the  loss  of  sleep  is  killing 
me  and  my  darling."  How  quickly  the  deter- 
mined expression  on  his  face  melted  away  as  he 
pronounced  the  loving  title!  "God  bless  her!" 
he  softly  murmured.  "  It  won't  be  long  now,  and 
afterward  we  can  rest  out.  I  can't  go  earlier, 
there's  so  much  to  talk  about ;  and  she  is  so  terri- 
bly dear  to  me.  Would  to  heaven  I  never  had  to 
leave  her  for  a  single  moment!" 

Tom  Griggs'  face  was  less  earnest  than  his  legs 
as  he  hurried  on.  He  entered  his  home,  found 
the  light  as  left  for  him  by  his  thoughtful  mother ; 
and,  after  a  call  at  the  pantry,  he  retired  to  the  icy 
embrace  of  his  couc'h,  to  fight  the  chill,  and  to 
dream  of  Anna  Bayard  and  the  grand  future  open- 
ing its  endless  avenue  of  joy  before  them. 

It  didn't  seem  as  if  he  had  been  fifteen  minutes 
in  bed  —  scarcely  long  enough  to  get  to  sleep,  at 
any  rate  —  when  he  was  called  to  breakfast,  and 
awoke  to  see  the  daylight  filling  his  room. 

It  was  a  hard  day's  work  that  Tom  had  before 
him,  and  he  was  sorely  tempted  to  murmur  against 
the  fate  which  doomed  him  to  labor  for  his  daily 
bread.  He  shivered  as  he  hurried  through  the 
streets ;  and,  when  he  reached  the  office,  it  was  pat- 
ent to  the  "devil"  even  that  he  had  been  up  late. 
With  all  the  discomfort  of  his  indiscretion  upon 
him,  the  editor  of  "The  Gazette"  declared  over 
and  over  again  that  he  would  be  more  moderate 
the  next  time ;  and  we  are  charitable  enough  to 
believe  he  meant  it. 


THE  PICTURE  OF  A   HAPPY  FUTURE.         57 

But,  when  Tom  Griggs'  day's  work  was  done, 
the  impatience  he  displayed  in  eating  his  supper, 
— which,  it  must  be  said,  however  inelegant  it  may 
sound,  he  fairly  bolted, — and  in  getting  his  Sun- 
day suit  on,  boded  no  good  to  the  new  resolve.  He 
even  cursed  the  hard-trodden  snow  on  the  walks, 
whose  smooth  surface  prevented  his  feet  from 
keeping  pace  with  his  desires,  as  he  hastened  on 
his  way  to  the  home  of  the  Bayards.  Nearly  fif- 
teen hours  had  passed  since  he  had  seen  her.  It 
was  such  a  dreary,  long  time.  It  was  like  coming 
into  sight  of  land  after  weeks  of  tempestuous 
ocean-voyaging,  to  come  in  sight  of  her  home.  He 
blessed  the  white  paint  and  the  green  blinds,  and 
the  dead  honeysuckle-vine  swaying  from  the  pillars 
of  the  porch.  He  called  the  house  the  casket 
which  contained  his  jewel ;  and  to  him  there  was 
no  fairy  palace  to  equal  it  in  magnificence.  Fortu- 
nately he  was  not  in  quest  of  real  estate,  or  he 
would  have  beggared  himself  and  his  friends  to 
have  obtained  the  location.  The  cosey  sitting-room 
was  just  as  we  saw  it  on  the  first  evening  we  fol- 
lowed Tom  to  the  side  of  his  promised  bride. 
Anna  was  there,  radiant  with  a  welcoming  smile. 
The  rest  of  the  family  were  in  the  dining-room,  as 
indicated  by  the  sound  of  the  voices.  What  a 
sacred  place  was  that  dining-room  to  Tom  Griggs ! 
Several  times  he  had  taken  tea  there,  and  twice  on 
Sundays  (memorable  occasions !)  he  had  eaten 
dinner  therein. 

There  is  a  desire  born  in  the  heart  of  every 


58  MR.  PHILLIPS'   GONENESS. 

young  man  to  see  her  who  is  dearer  than  life  to 
him  eat.  There  is  nothing  unworthy  in  this.  It 
is  not  to  measure  her  capacity,  or  to  observe  how 
graceful  she  is  at  such  a  time.  But  it  gives  him  a 
nearness  to  her  that  is  not  otherwise  obtained.  It 
is  typical  of  their  own  home  :  it  is  the  foreshadow- 
ing of  the  time  when  they  shall  be  independent  of 
all  others,  and  be  left  to  lean  alone  upon  each 
other.  It  made  Tom  Griggs  feel  as  if  he  and 
Anna  were  really  a  part  of  each  other. 

Tom  was  very  happy  as  he  took  her  lovingly 
into  his  arms ;  and  he  felt  so  thoroughly  wide 
awake  and  fresh,  that  it  would  be  a  sin  to  doubt 
his  ability  to  sit  up  all  night  if  an  emergency 
should  require,  —  not  a  very  large  emergency, 
either. 

And  the  c^ear  girl  who  rested  so  fondly  and 
contentedly  upon  his  breast  forgot,  that  she  had 
devoted  the  greater  part  of  the  day  to  keeping  her 
eyes  open,  even  with  the  encouragement  of  see- 
ing stitch  after  stitch  forming  order  out  of  chaos 
in  a  pile  of  fabrics  before  her. 

This  very  same  pile  of  sewing,  the  editor  of 
"The  Gazette"  saw  at  the  machine;  and,  while  a 
roguish  light  played  in  his  eyes,  he  gravely  in- 
quired, — 

"  What's  here,  Anna  ? "  and  made  as  if  he  would 
thoroughly  investigate. 

"  Now,  Tom,  don't  tease  !  "  she  cried,  endeavor- 
ing to  hold  him  back,  and  blushing  and  laughing 
in  a  most  tantalizing  way. 


THE  PICTURE  OF  A  HAPPY  FUTURE.         59 

It  must  have  been  an  .'inspiration  that  seized 
him,  he  took  her  up  so  suddenly  and  impetuously 
in  his  arms,  and  held  her  so  tightly. 

"  O  Tom  !  "  she  gasped  as  soon  as  he  freed  her, 
"  don't  you  know  that  the  folks  will  hear  you  ? " 

"I  don't  care  if  they  do/'  he  boldly  asserted. 
"  Don't  you  suppose  I've  got  the  right  to  squeeze 
you,  you  beautiful  witch  ? "  And,  before  the  un- 
fortunate girl  could  save  herself,  he  had  her  again 
in  his  impetuous  embrace. 

"  Oo-oo  !  doon't  —  doo-ent !  "  she  gasped.  "  O 
Tom!"  after  she  got  her  breath,  "I  won't  have  a 
lung  to  breathe  with." 

"  What ! "  exclaimed  the  young  man  in  great 
surprise.  "  Do  you  call  that  squeezing  ?  Wait 
till  we  are  married,  darling,  and  then  you  will  call 
this  child's  play.  I'll  have  you  all  to  myself  then, 
and  there  won't  be  any  one  around  to  interfere." 

"  I  won't  live  with  you  then.  I'll  get  a  divorce, 
and  come  back  home,"  she  retorted  laughingly, 
while  her  eyes  shone  with  the  love  that  filled  her 
life. 

He  was  going  to  make  another  pass  for  her, 
when  her  father  appeared ;  and  her  lover's  face 
assumed  immediately  an  expression  of  such  pro- 
found gravity,  that  the  happy  girl  laughed  outright. 

"  Good-evening,  Mr.  Bayard,"  said  Tom. 

"Good-evening,  Tom,"  responded  that  gentle- 
man, looking  inquiringly  at  his  daughter.  "  How's 
the  weather  out  ? " 

Had   the   old  gentleman   devoted   three   entire 


60  MR.   PHILLIPS'   GONENESS. 

days  to  the  construction  of  a  most  intricate  prob- 
lem, he  could  not  have  more  completely  floored 
Tom  than  by  this  simple  inquiry.  In  his  haste  to 
reach  his  Anna,  the  young  man  had  taken  no  note 
of  the  weather,  and  for  the  life  of  him  could  give 
no  reliable  data. 

"  Pretty  cold,  ain't  it  ? "  added  the  old  gentle- 
man helpfully. 

"A  regular  freezer,"  promptly  responded  Tom, 
clutching  at  the  suggestion,  and  rubbing  his  hands 
vigorously  at  the  stove  in  emphasis  thereof. 

"  Any  news  ?  " 

"  Not  much.     Pretty  dry." 

"  How's  business  ?  " 

"  Good.     /  have  got  nothing  to  complain  of." 

"  I'm  glad  of  that.  And  you're  fortunate ;  for 
the  times  are  mighty  hard."  The  old  gentleman 
poked  at  the  stove  after  saying  this  ;  and  the  result 
of  the  move  being  summed  up  in  the  expression, 
"  I  guess  your  fire  needs  more  coal,  Anna,"  he  left 
the  room  to  get  it.  « 

Mrs.  Bayard  and  Lucy  now  came  in ;  and  the 
latter  and  Anna  took  up  their  sewing,  while  the 
old  lady  settled  herself  comfortably  in  a  chair  by 
the  stove.  She  was  a  nice-looking  old  lady  of 
portly  build ;  but  there  was  no  resemblance  of  the 
daughters  to  either  her  or  the  father,  which  is  not 
an  unusual  occurrence.  Tom  Griggs  often  studied 
her  face,  with  a  view  to  find  some  feature  thereof 
to  correspond  with  the  beautiful  countenance  of 
his  darling ;  but  he  never  succeeded.  He  would 


THE  PICTURE   OF  A  HAPPY  FUTURE.         61 

try  to  picture  her  as  a  girl,  but  always  failed. 
The  full  and  somewhat  flarid  face,  the  gray  hair, 
and  the  wrinkles  were  insurmountable  barriers. 
He  could  not  separate  them  from  her,  even  with 
an  imagination  editorially  trained  ;  and  so  he  could 
not  clothe  her  with  youth.  Odd  queries  often 
came  into  his  mind  when  contemplating  her. 
Was  it  possible  she  was  ever  young  ?  What  was 
there  about  her  that  attracted  her  husband  ?  Did 
she  love  him  as  Anna  loved  ?  Did  he  love  her  as 
Anna  was  loved  ?  Did  she  use  to  lie  in  his  arms  ? 
Did  she  use  to  watch  anxiously  for  him  ?  Did  he 
call  her  "  darling  "  ?  Were  they  ever  different  from 
what  they  were  now  ?  Were  they  ever  any  thing 
but  prosy  and  commonplace  ?  They  could  not 
have  been.  If  so,  they  would  not  be  prosy  and 
commonplace  now.  These  queries  and  specula- 
tions never  led  to  any  thing  but  the  most  hopeless 
chaos  in  Tom's  mind ;  and  he  found  it  was  as  diffi- 
cult to  clothe  the  couple  with  sentiment  as  with 
youth,  and  he  would  give  up  the  struggle  in  de- 
spair, only  to  return  to  it  again  at  the  first  oppor- 
tunity. If  they  were  not  prosy  and  commonplace 
in  their  courting-days,  how  could  they  be  so  now  ? 
He  was  quite  confident  it  must  have  been  a  very 
dreary  courtship. 

Perhaps  it  was. 

She  called  him  Bayard,  and  he  called  her  "old 
lady."  There  was  certainly  not  much  romance 
about  that. 

Again  thrown  in  his  mental  wrestle  with  the 


62  MR.  PHILLIPS'   GONENESS. 

old  enemy,  Tom  thanked  his  stars  for  the  brighter 
future  before  him,  and  turned  his  eyes  upon  the 
dear  girl.  As  his  glance  fell  from  the  shapely 
head  to  the  lithe  fingers  plying  the  needle,  he  'felt 
that  his  cup  of  happiness  was  full  to  the  brim. 
Was  there  ever  a  woman  so  beautiful  as  she  ? 
Was  it  a  real,  actual  fact,  that  she  was  his  pledged 
bride,  and  would  in  a  few  days  be  his  own  dear 
wife?  Tom's  heart  swelled  to  such  a  degree 
under  the  inspiration  of  this  thought  as  to  make 
his  vest  feel  a  trifle  uncomfortable.  And  every 
little  while  the  beautiful  face  would  be  lifted, 
and  the  grand  eyes  beam  full  of  love  upon  him. 
Happy  Tom  Griggs ! 

And  yet  there  was  a  shadow  upon  his  joy. 
Tom  loved  the  nimble  fingers  so  dearly,  that  he 
could  not  bear  to  have  them  tasked  with  sewing. 
If  he  were  only  rich  !  At  any  rate  he  would  work 
hard  himself,  so  hard  that  she  should  never  have 
any  thing  to  do.  The  dear  face  should  never  look 
tired  after  they  were  married,  and  the  delicate 
hands  never  be  marred  by  labor.  When  they 
were  in  their  own  home,  he  would  take  care  of  all 
that.  There  was  a  pleasure  in  thinking  of  it.  It 
mattered  not  for  himself.  He  could  work  himself 
to  death,  if  necessary,  to  save  her,  the  precious 
darling ! 

Foolish  fellow!  There  were  tears  in  his  eyes 
as  this  thought  came  to  him. 

It  was  then  Anna  looked  up  again.  She  saw 
the  tears,  and  a  startled  look  flashed  into  her  face. 


THE  PICTURE  OF  A  HAPPY  FUTURE,         63 

But  she  saw  also  the  light'  of  a  yearning  devotion 
back  of  the  glistening  drops,  and  she  knew  it  was 
his  intense  love  for  her  that  brought  them  ;  and 
she  dropped  her  eyes  again,  while  the  look  of  joy 
in  her  face  intensified.  Mr.  Bayard  returned  with 
the  coal,  with  which  he  mended  the  fire,  after  con- 
vincing his  wife  that  he  was  not  desperately  bent 
on  mussing  the  carpet.  Then  he  went  back  to 
the  dining-room  to  smoke  his  pipe,  and  presently 
Mrs.  Bayard  followed  him,  to  look  after  household 
duties.  Lucy  stitched  on  in  silence.  Tom  no- 
ticed that  she  was  very  quiet,  even  for  her;  but, 
as  it  did  not  concern  him,  he  made  no  comment. 

"Tom,  who  was  that  young  fellow  that  stood 
near  the  church-door  as  we  were  coming  out  last 
night  ? "  asked  Anna. 

"  What  young  fellow  ? " 

"  Why,  didn't  you  see  him  ?  I  don't  see  how 
you  could  help  it.  He  was  a  stranger,  and  wore 
his  hair  rather  long,  and  had  on  a  cloak,  and 
looked  really  romantic." 

"  Oh,  him  !     That  was  Redner." 

"  Redner !  "  exclaimed  Anna,  looking  up  to  her 
lover,  "  who's  Redner  ?  " 

"  He's  the  chap  from  Boston  I  hired  Monday 
night,"  explained  Tom.  "  Don't  you  know  I  told 
you  of  him  when  I  came,  —  how  he  had  detained 
me,  and  how  I  took  him  to  be  a  poet  ? " 

"  Oh  !  "  said  Anna.     And  the  subject  dropped. 

Soon  after  this,  Lucy  retired.  When  she  was 
gone,  Anna  looked  up,  and  lovingly  whispered,  — 


64  MR.  PHILLIPS*   GONENESS. 

"  Come  over  here,  Tom.'* 

An  entirely  needless  request ;  for,  with  that 
promptness  peculiar  to  a  wide-awake  journalist,  he 
was  already  on  his  way  there. 

It  was  surprising  how  close  he  could  get  to  her 
without  pushing  her  completely  over. 

"When  will  you  be  through,  darling?"  he 
asked,  casting  an  unfriendly  glance  at  the  pile  of 
sewing. 

"  In  a  little  while.  You  know  it  must  be  done, 
Tom,"  she  said,  blushing  as  she  looked  up  to 
him. 

"  I  suppose  it  must,"  he  reluctantly  concurred ; 
"but  I  want  you  to  myself." 

She  stitched  on  a  moment  in  silence.  "Tom," 
she  softly  spoke,  "why  were  there  tears  in  your 
eyes  a  little  while  ago  ?  " 

He  did  not  answer,  and  she  raised  her  eyes  to 
his  face,  —  the  eyes  so  full  of  intense  love  for 
him. 

"  Why  was  it,  darling  ? " 

"  I  cannot  help  it,  pet ;  but,  when  I  saw  you  at 
work,  I  wished  that  you  might  never  have  to  do  a 
single  thing,  and  it  made  me  feel  badly  to  know 
that  you  were  obliged  to  do  this." 

"But,  Tom,  work  cannot  hurt  me."  The  idea 
that  he  thought  it  might  filled  her  with  joy. 
What  a  tender,  thoughtful  lover  he  was  ! 

"  But  it  hurts  me  to  know  you  have  to  do  it," 
he  said.  "  When  we  are  married,  you  will  not  have 
to  slave  at  sewing ;  and  I  will  work  hard  to  get 


THE  PICTURE  OF  *4  HAPPY  FUTURE.         65 

money,  that  you  may  not  have  to  lift  your  hand  to 
do  a  stroke." 

"  But,  Tom,  why  should  you  work,  and  I  not  do 
any  thing?  Do  you  suppose  I  could  rest  with  my 
hands  folded  while  you  were  toiling  day  after 
day?" 

"  It  matters  not  how  hard  I  have  to  work,  if  you 
are  saved." 

"  Don't  it,  Tom  ? "  she  whispered  softly,  pushing 
the  hair  slowly  back  from  his  forehead  gently  and 
lovingly ;  while  he  looked  into  the  beautiful,  earnest 
face,  and  felt  how  easy  it  would  be  to  die,  if  neces- 
sary, for  her  dear  sake. 

"It  is  only  two  weeks  now,  Tom."  He  knew 
she  referred  to  the  wedding-day. 

"  Yes,  ^only  two  weeks.  I  wish  it  was  to-mor- 
row." 

"  Do  you,  Tom  ?  "  she  lovingly  murmured,  and 
then  laid  the  beautiful  head  on  his  shoulder.  "  We 
will  be  so  happy  then  in  our  own  home.  It  will 
be  such  a  pretty  home  :  won't  it,  Tom  ?  " 

"Yes,  darling." 

"  There  are  so  many  unhappy  homes,  Tom.  I 
don't  see  how  married  people  can  live  so.  I  be- 
lieve it  must  be  the  woman's  fault.  If  the  wife 
tried  to  make  the  home  pleasant,  and  kept  herself 
neatly  dressed,  and  had  every  thing  in  order,  and 
didn't  let  the  work  drag,  I  knoiv  there  would  be  a 
difference.  Don't  you  think  there  would,  Tom  ? " 

Tom  knew  very  well  that  love  was  the  great 
incentive  to  domestic  effort,  and  that  these  women 


66  MR.  PHILLIPS'   GONENESS. 

were  not  Annas,  and  that  they  could  not,  in  con' 
sequence,  very  well  do  otherwise  than  they  did ; 
but  he  did  not  say  so.  It  was  a  matter  entirely 
outside  of  his  future,  and  so  it  did  not  interest 
him.  It  was  pleasant  to  have-her  lie  in  his  arms, 
and  to  hear  her  talk  ;  and  so  he  kissed  her  lovingly, 
and  simply  said,  "^es,  dear  one." 

"  O  Tom  !  it  is  so  delightful  to  think  of  our 
home ! "  she  exclaimed.  "  It  will  be  small,  of 
course ;  but  then  it  shall  be  a  perfect  gem  of  com- 
fort and  happiness.  We  will  have  pretty  furni- 
ture, in  bright  colors, — real  bright, — and  some 
pictures,  and  the  cunningest  kitchen.  And,  when 
you  are  at  the  office,  I  will  be  to  work  in  our  home, 
making  it  bright  and  cheerful  for  you  when  you 
come  home.  I  will  have  the  table  ready  set,  and 
myself  dressed  ;  and  then  I  will  go  out  to  the  gate, 
and  stand  there,  and  watch  for  you  until  you  come. 
O  Tom  !  won't  it  be  so  grand  ? "  She  lifted  her 
head  from  its  support,  and  .  clapped  the  pretty 
hands  in  an  ecstasy  of  delight,  while  her  eyes 
shone  with  the  pleasurable  emotions  the  picture 
created. 

"  My  darling ! "  was  all  he  said  ;  but  the  intensity 
of  the  utterance  spoke  volumes.  He  drew  her 
tighter  to  his  breast,  too  full  of  joy  himself  to 
speak  a  word. 

"And,  Tom,"  she  went  on,  "I'll  be  so  proud  to 
bring  you  into  the  dining-room,  and  show  you  the 
table.  I  know  just  how  I  will  have  it  arranged." 

"  Do  you,  pet  ? " 


THE  PICTURE  OF ''A   HAPPY  FUTURE.         67 

"Yes,  Tom.  I  think, there  is  a  great  deal  in 
the  way  a  table  is  set.  Some  tables  look  as  if  the 
things  were  just  thrown  on  to  them ;  and  some 
don't  look  as  if  there  was  any  thing  on  at  all,  and 
look  so  bare  and  bleak  that  I  wonder  how  a  man 
can  have  the  patience  to  stand  it.  I  want  our 
table  to  have  a  snowy  white  cloth,  and  cut  glass, 
and  nice  stone  china  for  breakfast  and  dinner,  and 
real  china  for  tea ;  and  napkins  with  holders  ;  and 
silver  spoons  and  forks  ;  and  I  will  Crochet  pretty 
mats  for  the  vegetable  dishes  and  tea  and  coffee 
pot ;  and  we  will  want  a  silver  sugar-spoon  and 
a  silver  butter-knife  ;  and  then  —  O  Tom  !  "  she 
cried,  springing  erect  again  in  the  excitement  of 
the  anticipation,  "won't  it  be  perfectly  grand?" 

He  caught  her  to  his  breast,  and  bent  silently 
over  the  flushed,  happy  face.  Something  touched 
her  cheek. 

"  O  Tom !  are  you  crying  ?  "  was  her  startled 
whisper. 

"  It  is  all  so  bright,  so  beautiful,  dear  one ! "  he 
said  in  a  broken  voice. 

She  made  no  reply ;  but  she  put  both  of  her 
arms  tightly  about  his  neck,  and  her  cheeks  grew 
wet  with  her  own  tears. 

Happy,  happy  lovers  !  —  oblivious  to  all  the  rest 
of  the  world,  —  unconscious  even  of  time. 

It  was  the  striking  of  the  clock  that  aroused 
them. 

"  Why,  Tom  !  that  is  one  o'clock  !  " 

By  a  gigantic  effort  he  wrenched  himself  from  the 


68  MR.  PHILLIPS'   GONENESS. 

dream,  and  came  down  upon  reality  on  both  feet 
with  a  force  that  jarred  his  entire  system,  got  his 
hat,  gave  her  a  final  embrace  and  a  shower  of 
kisses,  and  then  went  out  into  the  chilling  night- 
air  to  wrestle  with  the  frost  and  an  aggressive 
conscience. 


DOCKEKTY.  69 


CHAPTER  VII. 

DOCKERTY. 

IT  was  the  Sunday- morning  service  at  the 
church  Mrs.  Quimby  attended.  We  say  Mrs. 
Quimby,  because  her  lord  rarely  graced  the  struc- 
ture with  his  presence.  He  was  a  member ;  but  it 
was  so  long  since  his  conversion,  that  its  signifi- 
cance was  about  obliterated.  Then  it  always 
happened,  singularly  enough,  that  there  was  some- 
thing to  do  about  the  house,  something  to  look 
after  out  of  the  house,  or  something  out  of  the 
way  with  his  health  or  the  weather,  when  the 
church  was  holding  service.  To  a  close  observer 
it  looked  very  much  as  if  the  church  was  in  this 
manner  robbing  Mr.  Quimby  of  valuable  opportu- 
nities to  develop  his  spiritual  strength. 

At  any  rate,  it  was  evident  that  he  had  been 
robbed. 

A  peculiarity  of  Mr.  Quimby's  case  was  the  fact, 
that,  while  these  circumstances  appeared  to  be  all- 
powerful,  yet  there  was  a  season  in  nearly  every 
year  during  which  they  were  utterly  powerless  to 
prevail  over  him.  This  season  was  the  revival 
period.  During  the  progress  of  a  revival,  the 


70  MR.  PHILLIPS'   GONENESS. 

church  graciously  permitted  Mr.  Quimby  to  rise 
superior  to  every  ordinary  circumstance,  as  well 
as  .a  number  that  were  extraordinary.  He  grew 
with  the  revival.  As  it  progressed,  he  advanced 
in  zeal.  He  also  declined  with  it. 

Mr.  Quimby  was  in  the  closest  sympathy  with 
a  revival.  Scarcely  a  prayer-meeting  would  he 
miss,  although  one  was  held  every  evening  in  the 
week.  When  a  man  gets  up  at  an  unusual  early 
hour  of  a  summer  morning,  he  is  apt  to  lose  pa- 
tience with  those  people  who  will  persist  in  lying 
abed.  So  Mr.  Quimby,  in  his  faithful  attendance 
upon  the  revival  services,  lost  patience  with  those 
church-members  who  were  not  equally  faithful, 
even  in  so  great  a  degree  as  to  become  sore  vexed 
with  them. 

So,  too,  Mrs.  Quimby,  whom  a  state  of  chronic 
illness  prevented  from  venturing  out  in  the  night- 
air  when  there  was  no  excitement  in  Zion,  was 
faithful  in  her  attendance  upon  the  every-night 
meetings  that  were  now  in  progress.  And  the 
excellent  lady,  being  surcharged  with  the  grace 
which  had  silently  accumulated  in  the  other  por- 
tions of  the  year,  supplemented  her  faith  by  her 
works  in  earnestly  exhorting  all  about  her  to  "  get 
religion." 

Both  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Quimby  were  absent  this 
Sunday  morning;  and  their  pew  was  equally 'divid- 
ed between  Dockerty  and  a  strange  lady  whom 
the  sexton  had  seated  therein,  or,  as  Dockerty  ex- 
pressed it  on  getting  home,  "had  run  in,"  —  an 
act  he  indignantly  resented. 


DOCKERTY.  71 

Dockerty,  by  the  way,  was  the  only  son  of  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Quimby,  also  their  only  child.  Chrono- 
logically he  was  aged  eight  years  :  in  the  develop- 
ment of  mental  perception  and  in  the  matter  of 
human  experience,  he  was  somewhat  older.  Dock- 
erty had  appeared  in  this  world  several  years  after 
the  immediate  friends  of  his  parents  had  given  up 
his  coming  at  all,  and  there  had  been  no  second 
edition. 

At  the  time  of  his  birth,  on  the  very  day  in  fact, 
an  aged  maiden  lady  came  into  possession,  by  pur- 
chase, of  the  property  whereon  Mrs.  Quimby  sus- 
tained the  lives  of  her  family  and  some  dozen 
boarders.  The  new  purchaser  lived  in  the  neigh- 
borhood, owned  several  buildings,  which  she  rent- 
ed ;  and  having  no  apparent  avocation,  or  trouble 
in  paying  her  bills,  was  naturally  enough  reputed 
to  be  enormously  wealthy.  The  name  of  this  el- 
derly lady  was  Dockerty,  —  Miss  Anabel  Dockerty. 

It  was  rather  remarkable  that  she  should  be- 
come possessed  of  the  house  on  the  very  day  that 
the  Quimbys  became  possessed  of  their  heir. 
Mrs.  Quimby,  who  was  of  a  religious  turn,  could 
not  fail  of  seeing  the  hand  of  Providence  in  this, 
pointing  unmistakably  to  the  naming  of  the  child. 
It  was  an  indication  that  to  her  amounted  to  the 
importance  of  a  command,  and  she  hastened  to 
obey.  The  boy  was  called  Dockerty  Quimby, 
and  very  frequently  called  by  the  first  half  of 
the  name  in  clear,  resonant,  tones,  from  the  front- 
stoop  of  the  house,  whenever  he  was  needed  from 
the  street. 


72  MR.  PHILLIPS'   GONENESS. 

It  might  be  mentioned,  incidentally,  that  Miss 
Dockerty  lived  just  across  the  way. 

To  his  mother  Dockerty  was  the  chief  hope  of 
life.  To  his  father  he  presented  a  most  intricate 
problem.  To  both  he  was  a  good-sized  handful. 

On  this  sabbath  morning,  Dockerty,  with  his 
hair  clipped  so  short  as  to  show  quite  an  expanse 
of  scalp,  and  his  face  shining  with  an  almost  un- 
earthly lustre,  sat  on  the  seat  of  the  pew,  with  one 
leg  under  him,  and  in  a  position  to  bring  his  profile 
in  view  of  the  choir,  and  to  enable  his  eyes  to 
take  in,  in  turn,  the  profile  of  the  lady  who  had 
the  honor  of  sharing  the  pew  with  him.  For  some 
five  minutes  Dockerty  occupied  himself  in  con- 
templating her,  looking  carefully  first  over  her 
apparel,  and  then  concentrating  his  gaze  upon  her 
face.  Without  even  so  much  as  the  quiver  of  an 
eyelid,  he  engaged  in  this  survey,  and  then  sud- 
denly, as  if  violently  struck  with  the  recurrence  of 
an  idea,  he  unfolded  his  under  leg,  dove  his  hand 
into  his  breeches-pocket,  and  immediately  brought 
forth  an  object  that  completely  engrossed  his  at- 
tention. For  a  moment  he  remained  in  rapt  con- 
templation of  it ;  and  then  he  held  it  up  between 
his  thumb  and  forefinger,  so  as  to  get  the  very 
best  light  possible  upon  it.  It  also  happened,  un- 
designedly  without  doubt,  that  in  this  position  it 
became  plain  to  the  view  of  all  the  congrega- 
tion sitting  back  of  him. 

It  was  a  five-cent  coin  (a  new  one  at  that),  and 
it  glistened  in  the  light.  For  a  moment  or  more 


DOCKE&TY.  73 

Dockerty  thus  held  it  up,  turning  it  from  side  to 
side,  and  viewing  it  most  intently. 

Gradually  a  shadow  fell  upon  his  face.  Slowly 
it  deepened,  until  his  entire  countenance  was  lost 
in  its  depth.  The  hand  with  the  coin  was  brought 
back  to  his  knee.  There  was  a  great  trouble 
on  Dockerty's  mind.  That  it  was  not  caused 
by  the  nickel,  but  came  rather  from  reflections 
in  connection  therewith,  was  evident  from  the 
sorrowful  fondness  of  the  gaze  he  fixed  upon  it. 

It  was  in  a  spirit  of  great  irritation  that  he 
mumbled  to  himself,  — 

"I  hates  the  heathen,  I  do.  Heathen's  hogs. 
Whattuv  I  got  to  do  with  'em?  Whatsit  to  me 
about  heathen  ?  What  righttuv  they  got  to  be 
comin'  aroun'  an'  scoopin'  up  my  five  cents  ?  " 

Dockerty  stared  about  him  with  a  dreadfully 
morose  expression.  His  little  face  was  as  dark  as 
night.  He  fairly  quivered  under  a  powerful  sense 
of  his  wrongs,  and  his  voice  showed  in  its  inten- 
sity the  depth  of  the  outraged  feelings  it  gave 
utterance  to. 

"  A  new  five  cents  too ! "  It  is  utterly  impos- 
sible to  convey  to  the  reader  a  tithe  of  the  anguish 
imparted  in  this  reflection.  "A  bran  new  five 
cents,  or  I'm  a  sucker!"  he  explosively  added. 
"An'  this  to  go  to  the  heathen  !  How  them  little 
naked  coots  will  grin  an'  kick  up  when  they  see  it ! " 
Dockerty  groaned,  and  his  body  writhed  as  if  hi 
mortal  agony.  "They'll  go  off  an'  buy  things 
with  it,  an*  stuff  'emselves  till  they're  ready  to 


74  MR.  PHILLIPS'   GONENESS. 

bust.  An*  what's  the  good  ?  I'm  a  good  mind  ter 
spend  it  myself;  that's  what  I'm  a  good  mind 
ter  do.  I'm  just  as  good  as  a  heathen,  if  I  do 
wear  clothes.  But  nobody  gets  pennies  for  me,  an* 
talks  about  me,  an'  makes  pictures  in  books  of  me. 
I  won't  stand  this  much  longer,  I  can  tell  you.  I 
ain't  agoin'  to  have  my  money  scooped  up  like 
this.  Ain't  I  as  good  as  a  heathen,  —  a  little  nasty 
black  thing,  what  takes  all  the  boys'  pennies  for 
candy,  an'  never  has  no  worms  ?  Ugh  !  "  Dock- 
erty,  on  making  this  ejaculation,  scowled  in  such  a 
frightful  manner,  that  the  strange  lady,  happening 
to  observe  him,  was  so  worked  upon,  that  she  pre- 
cipitately retired  from  the  pew,  and  took  one  far 
removed. 

The  young  man  watched  this  movement  with  an 
expression  of  gloomy  abstraction  upon  his  face, 
but  made  no  comment. 

"  Ugh !  "  he  presently  repeated.  "  Hot  old  hea- 
thens them  be,  with  their  naked  bodies,  an'  rings 
in  their  noses !  Why  don't  they  go  to  work,  an' 
earn  their  own  pennies  ?  What  do  they  keep 
a  comin'  aroun'  after  mine  for  ?  Darn  'em  !  They 
gets  my  pennies,  an'  then  buys  things  for  to  stuff 
'emselves  with,  an'  goes  aroun'  jumpin'  over  hy- 
drants, an'  stonin'  dogs  an'  hens,  an'  catchin'  on 
behind  sleighs;  an'  I've  got  to  be  starched  as  stiff 
as  a  poker,  an'  sit  up  here  as  straight  as  a  stick,  a- 
lookin'  at  the  minister.  I'm  a  good  mind  ter  be 
a  heathen  myself,  there's  so  much  money  in  it." 

He  looked  anxiously  through  the  window  upon 
the  wintry  air,  and  sighed  regretfully. 


DOCKE'RTY.  75 

"If  it  wa'n't  so  cold,  I'd  just  rip  off  my  pants 
this  very  minit,  an  scoot  aroun'  town  like  a  house 
afire."  The  sudden  animation  that  lighted  up  his 
face  as  suddenly  died  out,  and  he  sighed  again. 
"  What's  the  good  if  I  did  ?  No  one  wouldn't 
give  me  a  cent.  I  ain't  black,  I  ain't  dirty,  I  ain't 
far  off ;  I'm  too  close  to  town  to  be  a  heathen." 

A  rustle  at  the  opening  of  the  pew  directed  his 
attention  in  that  direction ;  and  he  saw  Lucy 
Bayard  enter,  and  seat  herself.  Dockerty's  face 
softened  as  her  own  sweet  face  brightened  into 
sudden  sunshine  in  recognition  of  his  glance.  He 
crept  up  to  her  side  at  once. 

"  Miss  Bayard,  do  you  see  that  ? "  He  held  the 
glittering  coin  up  to  her  view. 

"  Yes,  Dockerty,"  she  whispered. 

"That,"  he  moaned,  "is  agoin'  to  the  heathen." 

"  To  the  heathen  ?  " 

"To  the  heathen,"  he  despairingly  uttered,  "or 
I'm  a  busted  pickle-jar." 

With  this  deplorable  picture  of  his  condition  in 
the  event  of  the  miscarriage  of  the  coin,  he  sub- 
sided into  a  long  train  of  gloomy  thought ;  one 
hand  clinching  the  treasure,  and  the  other  me- 
chanically engaged  in  rubbing  the  top  of  his  head. 

While  Dockerty  wrestled  with  his  responsibility 
to  the  heathen,  a  pair  of  very  restless  eyes,  four 
seats  back,  were  roaming  over  the  congregation. 
The  owner  of  the  eyes  was  Mr.  George  Redner, 
the  new  journeyman  in  "The  Gazette"  office. 
Being  a  stranger,  and  somewhat  out  of  the  com- 


76  MR.  PHILLIPS'   GONENESS. 

mon  appearance  of  the  Gallowhill  young  men,  he 
became  an  object  of  much  attention  to  the  very 
young  ladies  in  the  choir  at  his  back,  and  the 
other  very  young  ladies  who  rarely  sit  with  their 
parents,  but  appear  to  congregate  by  instinct  in 
the  rear  pews.  To  all  these  the  young  man  had 
a  peculiar  attraction;  and,  when  his  eyes  swept 
their  vicinity,  it  was  to  be  confronted  by  many 
fully  opened  maiden  orbs. 

It  was  thus  he  was  occupied  when  a  figure 
passed  down  the  aisle,  and  so  close  to  him  that  he 
could  have  touched  it  where  he  sat.  One  glance 
showed  him  that  it  was  Lucy  Bayard. 

During  the  balance  of  the  service,  his  whole 
attention  was  concentrated  on  the  Quimbys'  pew. 
Not  a  rustle  of  a  ribbon,  not  a  motion  of  her  per- 
son, escaped  the  eyes  which  had  now  lost  their  rest- 
lessness, and  were  completely  absorbed  in  the  quiet 
figure  of  the  young  girl.  He  envied  Dockerty  his 
proximity  to  her,  all  unconscious  of  the  brooding 
misery  that  darkened  that  young  man's  heart,  and 
which  made  him  entirely  oblivious  to  the  sweet 
delight  of  his  position  so  close  to  Lucy  Bayard. 
To  Redner  there  was  an  approach  to  a  halo  about 
the  bristling  hairs  and  the  expanse  of  scalp.  Dear 
Dockerty !  What  a  nice  boy  he  was !  What  a 
well-shaped  head  !  What  intelligent  ears  !  Other 
portions  of  his  person  were  equally  delightful  to 
the  contemplation  without  doubt ;  but  the  back  of 
the  pew  shut  out,  unfortunately,  all  but  his  head 
and  ears  from  Redner's  enraptured  view. 


DOCKERTY.  77 

Lucy  scarcely  moved-  during  the  delivery  of  the 
sermon.  Redner  hoped  that  she  would  look 
around  that  he  might  feast  on  a  full  view  of  her 
face,  or  turn  to  Dockerty  that  he  might  lunch  gen- 
erously, as  it  were,  on  her  profile ;  but  she  did 
neither.  She  was  all  absorbed  in  the  discourse, 
and  never  once  removed  her  eyes  from  the  speaker. 

When  the  service  closed,  the  young  man  lin- 
gered long  enough  to  have  her  step  into  the  aisle, 
and  thus  face  him.  Then  their  eyes  met,  and  hers 
dropped  at  once.  He  gave  one  all-intense  glance 
into  the  sweet  face,  and  then  hurried  into  the 
porch,  and  out  on  the  walk.  Here  he  took  place 
with  a  crowd  of  young  men,  who  were  as  much  at 
ease  in  front  of  the  door  as  if  they  had  been  born 
into  that  position,  and  who  were  contemplating 
the  outcoming  people  with  devout  attention,  and 
watched  for  her  to  appear. 

In  a  moment  or  two  she  came  down  the  stair  to 
the  walk,  and  moved  away  to  her  home.  He  con- 
centrated his  gaze  upon  her  with  all-devouring  in- 
tensity ;  but  she  did  not  look  toward  him  again. 
She  passed  on,  and  he  followed  after,  keeping  her 
in  range  of  his  admiring  vision  until  she  reached 
her  door.  And  after  that  he  passed  the  house 
three  or  four  times  at  a  slow  pace,  with  his  gaze 
lingering  on  the  structure ;  but  he  was  not  grati- 
fied with  another  glimpse  of  her  person. 


MR.  PHILLIPS'   GONENESS. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

AT   TEA   AT    QUIMBY's. 

REDNER  was  washing  up  for  tea  one  evening, 
when  Mr.  Phillips  said  to  him,  — 

"  You  want  to  slick  up  your  very  best  to-night ; 
for  there's  going  to  be  company  to  supper.". 

"Who's  that?"  asked  Redner,  towelling  his 
face. 

"  Lucy  Bayard,"  said  Phillips. 

It  was  perhaps  the  friction  of  the  towel  that 
made  the  young  man's  face  look  so  red. 

"  How  do  you  know  ? "  came  from  the  folds  of 
that  article. 

"  I  see  her  downstairs  when  I  came  in." 

"  But  she  may  not  be  going  to  stay  here  to  tea." 

"I  guess  there  ain't  any  doubt  of  it,"  said 
Phillips  ;  "for  she's  got  her  things  off." 

This  settled  it,  of  course,  and  nothing  more  was 
said.  But  Redner  was  full  fifteen  minutes  in 
arranging  his  hair,  and  adjusting  his  necktie.  He 
followed  Phillips  downstairs  in  a  state  of  great 
anxiety. 

The  Quimbys  and  their  boarders  were  at  the 
table,  and  with  her  back  to  him,  as  he  entered  the 


AT  TEA   AT  QUIMBY'S.  79 

door,  sat  Lucy.  He  did  not  need  to  see  her  face 
to  tell  him  that  it  was  she.  The  shapely  head,  the 
graceful  shoulders,  the  mass  of  richly  colored  hair 
lying  in  massive  braid  adown  her  back,  revealed  to 
him  in  a  flash  her  presence. 

Mrs.  Quimby  had  left  a  seat  between  Lucy  and 
herself,  and  nodded  to  Redner  to  take  it.  We  are 
not  quite  sure  that  Mrs.  Quimby  was  a  schemer, 
—  at  least,  any  more  so  than  a  married  woman  of 
her  years  is  expected  to  be.  It  was  apparent  to 
her,  as  well  as  to  another,  that*  both  were  young, 
and  that  both  were  unmarried.  From  this  knowl- 
edge she  had  instinctively  worked  herself  into  the 
belief  that  both  must  some  time  look  matrimony 
square  in  the  face.  So  she  seated  them  as  she  did, 
and  had  them  both  under  her  matronly  survey, 
and  was  quite  pleased  thereat. 

Mrs.  Quimby  presented  him  to  her.  The  beau- 
tiful smile  flashed  up,  and  illuminated  the  grave 
face,  as  she  acknowledged  the  ceremony,  and  went 
out  as  quickly  as  it  came,  leaving  her  cheeks 
flushed  as  if  from  the  light  of  its  glory,  and  her 
eyes  bent  down  upon  her  plate. 

As  was  hinted  in  the  preceding  chapter,  there 
was  considerable  of  an  awakening  in  the  church 
where  the  Quimbys  worshipped.  Under  the  im- 
pulse of  the  movement,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Quimby  were 
shining  conspicuously,  having  thrown  aside  their 
candle,  and  rented  an  entire  calcium-light.  This 
was  particularly  so  with  the  excellent  landlady, 
about  whose  presence  the  odor  of  sanctity  was 


80         -  MR.  PHILLIPS^   GONENESS. 

excelled  only  by  that  of  arnica.  Her  zeal  was 
admirable.  There  was,  she  contended,  a  time  for 
all  things.  The  time  for  levity,  for  idleness,  for 
vanity,  had  gone  by.  It  was  now  time  to  look 
after  the  solemn  interests  of  the  soul.  Mrs. 
Quimby's  mind  was  firmly  held  in  the  clamps  of 
this  conviction.  She  wanted  everybody  to  get  reli- 
gion. She  urged  them  with  indescribable  pathos 
to  lay  hold  of  it.  She  overflowed  with  zeal. 

Mrs.  Quimby  was  on  the  popular  current,  with 
sails  full  set ;  and  she  floated  majestically  onward, 
one  of  the  proudest  vessels  afloat, — although  not 
a  vessel  of  wrath,  as  she  looked  at  the  matter. 
To  her  religion  was  a  choice  tidbit,  —  something 
like  a  new  piece  of  furniture,  or  a  late  style  in  hat, 
or  a  very  pretty  design  in  dress-goods,  —  the  enjoy- 
ment of  whose  possession  consisted  mainly  in 
having  other  people  know  she  had  it.  The  subject 
was  largely  treated  of  at  this  tea,  as  it  was,  for  the 
matter  of  that,  at  all  teas  during  the  white  heat  of 
the  interest.  With  the  day  ended  and  the  family 
gathered  about  the  table,  the  freedom  from  toil 
and  the  thought  thereof  made  it  a  specially  favor- 
able opportunity  for  the  presentment  of  a  serious 
subject.  To  Mrs.  Quimby  it  was  a  particularly 
felicitous  occasion  for  airing  her  piety.  And  on 
this,  as  on  all  other  occasions,  she  was  ably  assisted 
by  a  tall,  spare  young  lady,  who  delved  in  millinery, 
and  who  was  chiefly  noted  for  a  pair  of  hard  gray 
eyes,  and  the  frequent  repetition  of  the  ejaculation, 
"Ahem!"  which  she  gave  with  touching  pathos. 


AT  TEA   AT  QUIMBY' S.  8 1 

Mrs.  Quimby  found  in  Mr.  Phillips  an  available 
agent  also,  —  not  that  that  gentleman  was  in  sym- 
pathetic accord  with  her  views  :  very  much  to  the 
contrary,  we  fear.  But  Mrs.  Quimby  used  him  on 
special  occasions  to  lift  her  up  to  the  proper  con- 
versational plane,  in  which  office  Mr.  Phillips 
operated  somewhat  in  the  character  of  a  derrick. 

On  this  occasion  that  worthy  gentleman  was 
seated  at  the  side  of  a  young  lady  who  aided  in 
the  manufacture  of  paper-boxes  through  the  day, 
and  who  was  now  completing  her  second  week  in 
the  Quimby  mansion.  She  was  a  young  person  of 
quiet  demeanor,  and  with  a  face  not  particularly 
noticeable  in  any  feature  but  the  eyes,  which  were 
large  and  slightly  staring,  and  in  color  might  have 
been  vulgarly  described  as  "  buttermilk." 

On  her  first  appearance  in  the  house,  the  sus- 
ceptible Ezekiah  was  struck  most  favorably,  and 
lost  no  time  in  improving  on  the  introduction. 
That  he  was  in  turn  flatteringly  considered  by  the 
young  lady,  there  could  be  no  doubt,  although  he 
was  not  aware  of  the  same,  and  was  in  conse- 
quence considerably  torn  by  doubt,  and  elevated 
by  hope,  and  crushed  by  despair.  In  other  words, 
Mr.  Phillips'  soul  was  passing  through  a  violent 
siege  of  love  in  its  fever-and-ague  stages.  He 
felt,  as  he  took  his  seat  at  the  table  and  gave  the 
slim  young  lady  a  rapturous  glance,  that  he  must 
know  his  fate  before  morning.  He  was  in  a  situa- 
tion that  made  it  imperatively  necessary  that  he 
should  have  this  knowledge.  To  be  frank,  Mr. 


82  MR.  PHILLIPS'   GONENESS. 

Phillips  had  a  full-sheet  poster  in  three  colors  to 
get  out  the  next  day ;  and  he  was  certain  he  could 
not  do  it  full  justice  with  his  mind  in  this  chaotic 
quiver.  He  was  contemplating  this  contingency 
when  Mrs.  Quimby's  voice  aroused  him. 

"  You  was  at  church  last  night,  wasn't  you,  Mr. 
Phillips?" 

"  Yes'm,"  he  said,  starting  from  his  revery. 

"  Didn't  you  think  it  was  a  splendid  meeting  ? " 
she  next  inquired. 

"Pretty  lively,"  he  replied,  passing  the  young 
lady  the  dried  beef  and  a  look  of  unutterable  affec- 
tion. 

Mrs.  Quimby  paused  a  moment,  and  quizzingly 
eyed  the  sugar-bowl,  as  if  in  some  doubt  of  the 
appropriateness  of  the  term  "lively"  in  this  con- 
nection. But  she  rallied. 

"  Didn't  it  almost  make  you  wish  that  you  had 
religion,  Mr.  Phillips  ? "  she  insinuatingly  ques- 
tioned. 

"I  don't  know —  I  hadn't —  I —  I  couldn't 
say,"  stammered  Mr.  Phillips,  flushing  to  the  very 
roots  of  his  hair,  and  trying  his  utmost  to  twist 
his  face  into  a  propitiatory  smile,  while  he  was 
delivering  this  plausible  explanation. 

It  was  a  remarkable  reply  from  him.  In  his 
normal  condition  of  feeling  he  would  have  de- 
cisively, if  not  irreverently,  answered  in  the  nega- 
tive ;  but  his  present  state  of  mind  was  softened 
to  a  degree  that  was  nearly  akin  to  religion,  and 
he  was  not  quite  certain  but  that  he  desired  it. 


AT  TEA   AT  QUIMBY 'S.  83 

He  was  not  the  first  man,  perhaps,  to  mistake  a 
love-sentiment  for  a  religious  emotion. 

"  I'll  bet  you  had  serious  thoughts  on  it,"  said 
Mrs.  Quimby,  with  a  glance  that  might  have 
looked  like  cunning  were  it  not  for  the  great 
delicacy  of  her  expression.  "  Nobody  could  set 
under  such  preaching  as  that  of  last  night,  an* 
have  the  Word  presented  as  it  was  by  him,  an' 
hear  them  prayers,  an*  not  feel  as  if  they  was  sin- 
ners, an'  needed  grace  right  away.  It  was  just 
glorious !  I  don't  think  I  was  ever  at  a  meeting 
where  there  was  so  much  feeling  as  there  was 
there  last  night.  God  was  there,  or  I  don't  know 
what's  what.  It  seemed  to  me  as  if  the  very  roof 
was  a  comin'  off.  Didn't  it  seem  so  to  you,  Miss 
Hervisson  ? " 

The  party  addressed  was  the  possessor  of  the 
hard  gray  eyes,  and  she  hastened  to  respond,  — 

"Why,  my — ahem !  I  was  perfectly  carried  away 
with  it.  I  thought  Brother  Edgett  was  perfectly 
grand —  per-fect-ly  grand,  —  ahem!  He  spoke  so 
feelingly,  so  impressively;  and  he  has  such  .a 
voice,  —  ahem  !  You  could  see  that  every  word 
came  right  from  his  very  soul.  Didn't  you  think 
so,  Mrs.  Quimby  ?  ahem  !  " 

"  I  should  say  I  did ! "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Quimby 
with  enthusiasm.  "If  there  ever  was  a  man  in 
dead  earnest,  he  is.  Why"  (looking  all  around 
the  table),  "you  could  see  he  meant  every  word 
he 'said  by  his  very  looks.  Every  time  he  swung 
his  arms,  he  showed  what  he  was.  Oh,  he  was 


84  MR.  PHILLIPS'   GONENESS. 

splendid !  I  wish  you  could  a'  heard  him,  Lucy, 
because  he's  just  the  kind  of  preacher  to  suit  you. 
You  will  go  with  us  to-night  to  hear  him  :  won't 
you,  dear  ? " 

"  Not  to-night,  thank  you,  Mrs.  Quimby,"  she 
answered.  She  saw  her  hostess's  design,  and 
shrank  from  it. 

Mrs.  Quimby  was  disappointed,  but  she  made 
no  comment. 

"You'll  go,  Mr.  Redner :  won't  you?"  she  asked. 

He  wanted  to  refuse,  as  Lucy  was  not  going, 
but  consented  before  he  could  recover  himself. 

"  I  hope,  Mr.  Phillips,  that  you  and  Miss  Hurley 
will  come  too." 

Mr.  Phillips  hastened  to  assure  her,  that,  if 
agreeable  to  the  young  lady,  he  would  cheerfully 
comply.  The  young  lady  graciously  admitted  that 
it  would  be  agreeable. 

Upon  this,  Mrs.  Quimby's  face  fairly  shone  with 
delight  at  the  success  of  this  arrangement,  which 
promised  so  much  of  enjoyment  to  those  con- 
cerned ;  and  there  was  a  grain  of  exultation  in  her 
manner  as  she  said,  — 

"  I  think  we  should  do  all  we  can  to  help  along 
the  cause.  We  must  sow  our  seed,  as  the  pastor 
says,  even  if  we  don't  see  any  fruit.  We  can't 
always  tell  what  will  come  of  it ;  but  we  must 
keep  on  doing  all  the  same,  an'  God  will  take 
care  of  it.  I  got  religion  when  I  was  a  girl,  an' 
I've  wished  often  that  I  had  got  it  afore.  Religion 
is  the  best  thing  anybody  can  get  hold  of.  It 


AT  TEA  AT  QUfMBY'S.  85 

helps  'jem,  an*  makes  'em  feel  good.  I  don't  know 
what  I'd  a'  done  with  all  my  trials  an'  troubles 
an'  sickness,  if  it  warn't  for  religion  to  comfort 
an'  stay  me.  It  has  been  the  only  thing  that's 
kept  me  up,  an'  it  has  made  me  so  happy  hundreds 
of  times!  I  feel  so  good  now,  I  can't  tell  any 
thing  about  it.  But  I  want  more  religion  :  we  all 
want  more  of  it.  It's  something  nobody  had 
oughter  be  without." 

"Glory  to  God!"  ejaculated  her  husband  in  a 
mahogany  sort  of  voice. 

"  So  I  say,  Reuben  :  glory  to  God ! "  she  spirit- 
edly returned.  "  An'  may  He  come  down  an'  take 
hold  of  the  hardened  hearts,  an'  shake  'em  up, 
until  every  one  in  the  world  has  got  religion.  Oh  ! 
why  don't  people  get  it  ?  Why  will  they  keep 
puttin'  it  off,  an'  puttin'  it  off,  until  it  is  too  late  ? 
'  Now  is  the  accepted  time ;  now  is  the  day  of  sal- 
vation.' '  Mrs.  Quimby  sighed,  and  contemplated 
the  cream-jug. 

"  Ahem ! "  observed  Miss  Hervisson  in  a  tone 
of  sympathy. 

"What  a  happy  day  that  will  be,"  murmured 
the  landlady,  as  if  communing  with  herself,  "  when 
every  man  an'  woman  an'  child  willuv  got  religion, 
when  they  all  put  away  the  things  of  the  flesh,"  — 
here  her  eyes  mechanically  strayed  to  the  dried 
beef  which  was  being  put  away,  —  "  and  give  their 
whole  hearts  to  "  — 

"  Ma,  I  love  God,"  Dockerty  took  occasion  to 
mention  at  this  juncture;  and,  as  he  said  it,  he 


86  MR.  PHILLIPS1   GONENESS. 

looked  around  the  table  for  marks  of  the  approval 
he  was  confident  he  had  won. 

"Then,"  continued  his.  mother  without  noting 
the  interruption,  "  we'll  see  a  much  different  world 
than  this.  Now,  -don't  you  really  think  so  your- 
self, Mr.  Phillips  ? " 

That  gentleman  was  on  the  point  of  making  a 
suitable  response,  when  Dockerty  at  once  put  in, 
with  some  asperity,  — 

"  Say,  ma,  I  love  God,  I  tell  you  ! " 

"Dockerty,"  said  his  mother  sternly,  "I  have 
asked  Mr.  Phillips  a  question,  an'  I  want  you  to 
keep  quiet." 

"Well,  when  I  say  I  do,  I  do!"  repeated  the 
perverse  youth. 

"Dockerty,  if  you  don't  keep  still,  I  will  give 
you  a  setting  up  that  you'll  remember." 

"  Then,  why  don't  you  hear  me  when  I  tell  you 
I  do  ?  "  he  crossly  demanded. 

"I  did  hear  you." 

"  Give  me  some  cake,  then,"  was  the  sullen  re- 
joinder. 

The  cake  was  passed  by  the  frowning  woman  ; 
and  Mr.  Phillips  undertook  to  say  —  the  diversion 
having  drawn  the  eager  attention  of  all  to  him  — 
that  he  had  no  doubt  of  it. 

After  this  very  satisfactory  exposition  of  his 
views  on  the  question,  the  family  rose  from  the 
table,  and  the  various  atoms  thereof  dispersed,  to 
make  ready  for  the  evening  service. 


MR.  PHILLIPS  MEETS  AN  EMERGENCY.        87 


CHAPTER   IX. 

MR.    PHILLIPS    MEETS    AN    EMERGENCY. 

IN  the  privilege  of  escorting  Miss  Hurley  to 
church,  the  foreman  of  "  The  Gazette  "  was  ex- 
alted to  a  degree  of  buoyancy  rarely  attained  even 
by  a  balloon.  He  was  confident  she  was  a  most 
estimable  young  woman,  and  he  felt  that  matters 
had  progressed  to  a  stage  which  demanded  that 
he  should  win  her.  In  the  light  of  her  counte- 
nance the  dark  record  of  past  defeats  and  heart- 
aches melted  from  both  sight  and  memory,  and  his 
whole  nature  went  out  to  her  with  all  the  gush  of 
a  first  and  only  love. 

He  knew  that  he  never  had  loved,  and  never 
again  could  love,  like  this ;  and  to  win  her  was  not 
only  desirable,  but  absolutely  necessary.  It  was 
necessary  for  the  peace  of  his  mind  in  the  present, 
and  for  his  welfare  in  the  vastness  of  eternity. 
This  was  very  strong  ground,  but  Mr.  Phillips 
knew  it  was  proper  ground. 

He  was  in  a  flutter  of  delight  all  the  way  to  the 
church,  and  through  the  service,  of  which  he  heard 
but  precious  little,  and  understood  very  much  less, 
we  are  sorry  to  state. 


88  'MR.  PHILLIPS1   GONENESS. 

It  is  gratifying  to  record  that  Miss  Hurley  acted 
throughout  it  all  in  a  most  creditable  manner, 
showing  no  uneasiness,  no  alarm,  no  distress.  It 
might  be  said  of  her  that  she  bore  herself  with  a 
heroism  that  was  admirable. 

She  kept  her  eyes  steadily  fixed  upon  the  clergy- 
man, and  evidently  took  in  every  sentence  with 
keen  relish  ;  while  poor  Mr.  Phillips  sat  in  a  quiver 
of  whirling  thought,  hardly  realizing  where  he  was, 
or  comprehending  what  it  was  all  about  that  was 
going  on  around  him. 

At  the  close  of  the  service  his  nervousness  be- 
came more  apparent.  It  seemed  as  if  he  could 
not  get  her  out  on  the  street  where  he  could  have 
her  all  alone  to  himself  soon  enough.  It  is  singu- 
lar that  Miss  Hurley  was  so  calm  and  serene. 
She  moved  from  the  building  as  if  she  had  a  fort- 
night at  her  disposal  for  that  purpose.  Once  on 
the  street,  Mr.  Phillips'  nervous  exuberance  was 
somewhat  toned  down  by  the  proximity  of  the 
ordeal  he  had  voluntarily  taken  upon  himself  to 
endure.  It  is  not  at  all  likely  that  Miss  Hurley 
anticipated,  in  the  least  degree,  the  purpose  of  her 
companion.  On  the  contrary,  there  was  much  in 
her  demeanor  to  indicate  that  she  did  not.  She 
spoke  feelingly  of  the  sermon,  and  said  she  had 
been  so  interested  in  it,  she  was  sure  she  had  not 
lost  a  single  sentence.  Then  she  wanted  to  know 
who  that  was  who  sat  two  seats  ahead  of  them 
in  the  left  aisle,  and  anxiously  inquired  what  he 
thought  of  the  singing  of  the  second  hymn. 


MR.  PHILLIPS  MEETS  AN  EMERGENCY.         89 

At  the  first  inquiry  Mr.  Phillips  had  great  diffi- 
culty in  suppressing  a  groan.  He  could  not 
understand  how  it  was  possible  for  her  to  hear 
that  sermon  with  himself  at  her  side.  As  to  such 
a  hideously  irrelevant  matter  as  the  identity  of  the 
party  two  seats  ahead  in  the  left  aisle,  he  had  not 
given  the  faintest  thought.  In  fact,  he  had  not 
seen  him  at  all,  and  hoped,  with  a  sincerity  that 
could  not  be  questioned,  that  he  never  would  see 
him  —  alive.  Of  the  hymn  he  had  not  heard  a 
single  line.  It  might  have  been  a  Brazilian  polka 
on  an  instrument  with  one  string,  so  far  as  his 
knowledge  ran.  Something  a  thousand  times 
more  important  than  all  this  filled  his  mind,  and 
held  captive  his  every  thought. 

It  would  be  a  dreadful  thing  indeed,  if,  after  all 
his  dreaming  of  winning  her,  she  should  be  wanting 
in  the  necessary  reciprocal  sentiment.  But  Mr. 
Phillips  could  not  now  abandon  making  a  protes- 
tation of  the  intense  affection  he  held  in  his  heart 
for  her,  and  learning  her  feeling  toward  him. 
Under  this  conviction  he  took  occasion  to  slap 
himself  on  the  breast  in  a  subdued  manner,  and  to 
charge  himself  with  great  feeling  to  — 

"  Brace  up  !  " 

"  Did  you  speak,  Mr.  Phillips  ? "  inquired  Miss 
Hurley  gently. 

"  No  —  that  is  —  oh,  no,  I  did  not  speak ! "  he 
hastened  to  explain,  visibly  disturbed  by  the 
thought  that  she  should  have  heard  him. 

There  was  a  moment  of   silence.     Every  step 


90  MR.   PHILLIPS'   GONENESS. 

was  taking  them  nearer  home.  Mr.  Phillips  felt 
that  now  or  never  he  must  take  the  momentous 
step.  He  was  not  in  an  enviable  frame  of  mind. 
The  knowledge  of  his  physical  failing  in  an  emer- 
gency of  this  nature  came  upon  him  with  unpleas- 
ant force.  There  was  a  faint  hope  in  his  breast 
that  time,  the  great  healer,  had  either  effected  a 
complete  cure  of  the  trouble,  or  greatly  modified  it. 
The  uncertainty  was  dreadful. 

Mr.  Phillips  walked  on  with  the  young  lady, 
every  step  increasing  his  mental  misery.  She 
asked  him  several  questions  concerning  his  im- 
pressions of  the  meeting  ;  but  his  answers  were  so 
vague  and  disjointed,  and  contained  so  little  bear- 
ing on  the  subject,  that  even  the  very  moderate 
young  lady  could  not  fail  to  be  awakened  thereby. 
Mr.  Phillips  knew  he  was  not  giving  intelligible 
answers ;  but  he  could  not  help  himself.  As  he 
subsequently  remarked  to  a  sympathetic  friend,  of 
his  tongue,  "  It  just  wobbled  in  my  mouth."  With 
his  whole  mind  concentrated  on  one  subject,  his 
tongue  could  not  intelligently  dwell  upon  any 
other;  and  he  saw  that  further  endeavors  to  re- 
spond were  only  increasing  the  disturbance.  If 
he  was  to  come  to  the  point  at  all,  he  must  do  it 
at  once.  With  this  pressure  upon  him,  he  plunged 
into  the  abyss. 

"  Matilda,"  he  began.  The  very  sound  of  his 
voice  so  startled  him,  that  for  an  instant  he  paused. 
It  was  so  strange,  so  hard,  and  so  unnatural,  that  it 
sounded  as  if  coming  from  beneath  an  unoccupied 


MR.  PHILLIPS  MEETS  AN  EMERGENCY.        91 

building,  while  its  ascent  of  his  throat  seemed  to 
raise  a  cloud  of  dust  the  entire  way. 

"Matilda,"  he  repeated  with  another  effort,  "do 
you  know  how  long  it  is  since  we  first  see  each 
other  ? " 

Miss  Hurley  contracted  her  brow  as  if  in  a 
pang  of  desperate  thought. 

"  Why,  I  really  don't  remember,"  she  answered. 

"  It  will  be  three  weeks  to-night,"  said  Mr.  Phil- 
lips huskily. 

"  Can  it  be  possible  ?  I  had  forgotten  all  about 
it."  This  was  false,  we  are  sorry  to  say.  Miss 
Hurley  knew  it  was  three  weeks  to  almost  an 
hour. 

"  Yes,  three  weeks  ago  to-night,"  repeated  Mr. 
Phillips.  "  Do  you  know  what  I  just  said  to  my- 
self the  first  time  I  saw  you  ? "  The  speaker 
glanced  tenderly  on  his  companion. 

"  When  you  first  saw  me,  Mr.  Phillips  ?  " 

"Yes,  Matilda."  It  was  wonderful  the  depth 
of  tenderness  in  the  utterance  of  the  name, 
although  much  of  it  was  obscured  by  the  huski- 
ness  of  his  voice. 

"  I  don't  know,  I  am  sure,  Mr.  Phillips." 

"  Well,  I  says  to  myself,  says  I  —  says  I,  '  There's 
a  true  lady  for  you  ;  there's  style.'  That's  what  I 
said."  Mr.  Phillips  threw  out  his  chest  under  the 
inspiration  of  this  reflection,  and  looked  very 
steadily  up  the  street. 

"  Why,  I  don't  see  how  you  could  tell  any  thing 
about  me  on  so  short  an  acquaintance  ;  for  you  had 


92  MR.  PHILLIPS'   GONENESS. 

just  seen  me,  you  know."  Miss  Hurley  was 
nevertheless  pleased  by  such 'appreciation  of  her 
worth,  despite  the  surprise  she  felt  at  its  expres- 
sion. 

"  I  can't  help  it,"  protested  the  foreman  of  "  The 
Gazette,"  with  fervor.  "That's  what  I  thought,  an' 
that's  what  I  said ;  an'  I  stand  by  it  now,  and  a 
hundred  times  more,  by  Judas ! "  Mr.  Phillips' 
long  and  solemn  features  shone  like  a  new  hearse. 

"  O  Mr.  Phillips  !  "  cried  the  maiden,  very  much 
shocked,  "  don't  swear :  please  don't." 

"  Why,  that  ain't  swearing,  Matilda,"  earnestly 
protested  Mr.  Phillips.  "  Just  saying  Ju —  " 

"  Oh,  please  don't !  "  she  pleaded,  clinging  closely 
to  his  arm. 

"I  won't,  if  you  don't  want  me  to,"  he  hastened 
to  assure  her.  "  I'll  do  any  thing  to  please  you. 
May  Heaven  split  me  open  with  a  cold  chisel 
if"  — 

"O  Mr.  Phillips!  don't,  don't,  DON'T!  It  is  so 
dreadful  to  have  you  talk  like  that." 

Mr.  Phillips  immediately  subsided,  partly  from 
doubting  his  ability  to  convey  an  adequate  idea  of 
his  fervor  in  language  attuned  to  her  delicate  ear, 
and  partly  from  the  delight  he  experienced  in 
having  her  clinging  so  helplessly  to  him. 

"Matilda,"  he  presently  resumed,  after  a  violent 
effort  with  his  throat,  "  I  have  got  something  — 
that  is,  I  mean  there  is  something —  something  I 
want  to  say."  He  stopped  short  at  this  juncture, 
while  the  perspiration  started  out  on  his  forehead 


MR.  PHILLIPS  MEETS  AN  EMERGENCY.         93 

in  very  large  drops.  Like  a  discreet  girl,  she  kept 
still. 

"  I,"  he  began  again,  and  then  coughed,  "  I  want 
to  ask  you  if —  if —  if  —  "  Mr.  Phillips  went 
off  on  a  series  of  ifs,  while  his  eyes  protruded  to 
an  unnatural  degree,  and  his  nose  and  cheek-bones 
and  chin  appeared  in  glaring  prominence.  It  was 
only  by  clutching  his  throat  in  a  prompt  and  vigor- 
ous manner  that  he  was  able  to  stem  the  dreadful 
flood  of  conjunctions  that  poured  from  his  lips. 
The  effort  caused  him  to  stand  still,  and  gasp  for 
breath. 

It  was  a  rather  embarrassing  position  for  a 
young  lady.  Miss  Hurley  felt  that  something  of 
a  striking  nature  was  imminent ;  but  whether  her 
hopes  or  her  fears  were  to  be  fulfilled,  she  could 
not  determine.  If  she  had  the  hope  of  a  great 
brightness  coming  into  her  life,  to  cast  its  sun- 
shine upon  her  path  forevermore,  there  was  also 
the  fear  that  some  terrible  physical  casualty  would 
come  to  blight  it.  Really,  Mr.  Phillips  did  show 
strong  symptoms  of  having  a  fit  right  there  in  the 
street.  Unfortunate  as  was  his  condition,  hers 
was  infinitely  worse. 

"  Matilda,"  he  gasped,  after  walking  a  few  steps 
farther,  "  I  want  to  ask  you  if  you  do  —  that  is, 
if  you  could  —  " 

Mr.  Phillips  could  give  no  utterance  beyond 
this.  His  jaws  twitched,  his  tongue  rattled,  his 
eyes  protruded ;  but  no  expression  came  from  it 
all,  —  that  is,  in  words  —  although  his  features, 


94  MR.  PHILLIPS'    GONENESS. 

even  in  the  dim  snowlight,  showed  eloquently 
enough  the  force  of  his  convictions.  The  dreadful 
weakness  had  struck  Mr.  Phillips,  and  he  -  could 
not  overcome  it.  He  felt  the  pit  of  his  stomach 
giving  away;  but  he  could. not  avert  the  disaster. 
A  cold,  clammy  perspiration  bedewed  his  face, 
while  his  limbs  trembled  to  a  degree  that  threat- 
ened their  usefulness. 

One  more  gigantic  effort  he  made  to  throw  off 
the  demon  that  was  riding  his  soul  to  its  death. 

"  Matilda,"  he  tremulously  began,  "  it  is  three 
weeks  since  first  we  met.  Since  then  you  and  me 
have  been  often  together,  Matilda.  We've  lived 
right  in  the  same  house  together,  and  seen  one 
another  four  or  five  times  a  day  every  day.  You 
ain't  no  stranger  to  me,  Matilda:  are  you,  Matil- 
da ? "  His  voice  began  to  falter  at  this  juncture. 

"  No,  Mr.  Phillips,"  she  softly  replied,  clinging 
closer  to  his  arm,  but  looking  down  to  the  walk. 

His  voice  was  very  thick  and  unsteady  when  he 
began  again  :  — 

"Then,  Matilda,  do  you  think  you  do —  I  mean 
do  you  think  that  you  could —  could —  could  —  " 
He  broke  completely  down. 

"  Could  what,  Mr.  Phillips  ? "  she  whispered. 

"Could —  could — "  he  stuttered,  shaking  vio- 
lently, "could  you  lo —  lo — "  They  had  reached 
the  gate.  "Could —  could —  c-o-u-l-d  !  " 

The  last  utterance  was  a  prolonged  howl  of 
impotency ;  and  with  it  the  thoroughly  disgusted 
and  completely  unhinged  lover  dropped  her  arm, 


MR.  PHILLIPS  MEETS  AN  EMERGENCY.        95 

and  fled  up  the  street  at  his  highest  possible 
speed. 

For  a  moment  Miss  Hurley  stood  at  the  gate, 
and  looked  after  the  retreating  form  in  petrified 
amazement ;  and  then,  partly  recovering  her  senses, 
and  suddenly  realizing  that  she  had  miraculously 
escaped  a  horrible  fate  at  the  hands  of  an  impend- 
ing lunatic,  she  precipitately  retired  within  doors, 
and  lost  no  time  in  gaining  the  protection  of  her 
own  room. 

The  flying  Mr.  Phillips  abated  not  his  speed 
until  he  reached  the  main  street.  Once  there,  he 
made  directly  to  the  hotel,  and  entered  the  bar  in 
a  stage  of  exhaustion  that  rendered  him  powerless 
to  speak.  He  went  up  to  the  counter,  and  leaned 
heavily  over  it,  catching  desperately  for  breath, 
while  his  long  and  prominent  features  bore  an 
appearance  of  such  ghastly  dismay  that  the  bar- 
tender immediately  parted  with  his  wits.  He 
could  only  stare  at  him,  too  amazed  to  speak. 

"  Ci —  cider  brandy  !  "  gasped  Mr.  Phillips. 

The  decanter  and  glass  were  promptly  placed 
before  him. 

"  Pour  it." 

The  bar-tender  hastened  to  obey. 

Ezekiah  grasped  the  vessel,  and  shot  its  con- 
tents down  his  throat. 

"  Another,"  was  all  he  said. 

He  was  again  helped. 

"  What's  the  matter,  Ez?"  asked  the  bar-tender, 
seeing  that  he  was  reviving,  and  taking  on  a 


96  MR.   PHILLIPS'   GONENESS. 

more  natural  look.  "  Haven't  been  hoisting  in  any 
poison,  have  yer  ?  " 

"Joseph,"  said  Mr.  Phillips,  with  great  impres- 
siveness,  and  leaning  so  far  over  the  bar  as  to 
threaten  to  cleave  Joseph's  face  with  his  sharp 
nose,  "  there's  some  things  which  should  never  be 
permitted  to  escape  the  sanctity  of  the  human 
breast.  This  is  one  of  *em."  Mr.  Phillips  here- 
upon straightened  himself,  made  a  dignified  flour- 
ish with  his  right  hand,  and  gravely  repeated, 
"This  is  one  of  'em." 

With  that  he  solemnly  retired.  But  his  com- 
posure was  but  momentary,  and  came  only  from 
the  necessity  of  sustaining  himself  in  the  presence 
of  others.  Alone  on  the  street,  his  courage  left 
him;  and,  smiting  his  dishonest  and  recreant 
stomach,  he  bitterly  cried,  — 

"If  Heaven  would  only  send  me  a  camel,  I'd 
scoot  away,  and  be  at  peace ! " 


THE    WEDDING-EVE.  97 


CHAPTER  X. 

THE    WEDDING-EVE. 

THERE  never  was  a  more  devoted  lover  than 
Tom  Griggs.  And  so  thoughtful  and  tender  was 
he  in  his  wooing,  that  the  most  indifferent  in  such 
matters  could  not  fail  to  notice ;  and  even  Redner, 
with  his  professed  advanced  ideas  of  gallantry, 
was  deeply  affected  thereby.  Rain  or  shine  Tom 
never  missed  his  evening;  and  they  never  went 
out  into  company  or  to  an  entertainment  without 
going  together.  It  was  a  genuine  pleasure  to  see 
him  in  the  rain  give  her  four-fifths  of  the  umbrella, 
and  composedly  take  the  drops  on  his  own  de- 
fenceless person.  It  was  solid  comfort  to  note 
the  readiness  with  which  he  would  carry  her  Bible 
when  escorting  her  from  church,  for  fear  the  bur- 
den of  the  volume  would  tire  her;  while  it  was 
the  summit  of  delight  to  watch  with  what  tender- 
ness he  would  adjust  her  wraps,  and  bundle  her  up 
so  that  not  a  breath  of  the  cruel  winter  air  should 
touch  the  delicate  form.  Tom  Griggs'  greatest 
joy  was  found  in  doing  for  his  darling. 

But  now  the  end  of  the  dreary  waiting  was 
drawing  nigh.  Day  succeeded  day  at  that  digni- 


98  MR.  PHILLIPS'  GONENESS. 

fied  pace  with  which  time  approaches  an  intensely 
desired  goal,  and  the  eve  of  the  wedding-day  had 
finally  come.  Tom  Griggs  knew  that  there  never 
had  been,  and  never  could  be,  so  happy  a  man  as 
was  he.  He  moved  about  and  looked  around  in  a 
sort  of  mild  delirium.  He  watched  her  every  step 
as  she  went  about  the  little  sitting-room  getting 
this  and  that  together  for  the  morrow,  and  looked 
upon  the  flushed,  happy  face,  and  wondered  to 
himself  if  it  were  possible  that  the  long-hoped-for, 
earnestly-yearned-after  night  had  really  come,  — 
the  eve  of  their  wedding-day. 

A  thousand  times  he  had  pictured  it,  and  what 
he  would  do,  and  what  she  would  do,  and  what  he 
would  feel,  and  what  he  would  say,  and  how  she 
would  look.  It  had  been  a  bright,  beautiful  pic- 
ture to  him,  so  beautiful  really  that  there  were 
times  when  he  was  led  to  doubt  its  ever  coming. 
But  it  was  here  now.  Very  startling,  to  be  sure, 
and  almost  improbable,  but  still  it  had  come ;  and 
here  he  sat  and  greedily  watched  her  every  motion, 
and  there  she  was,  his  beautiful  darling,  right 
before  his  eyes,  and  never  looking  more  beautiful 
or  less  real. 

It  was  a  dazed  condition  of  mind  he  was  in,  and 
it  seemed  that  he  must  not  stir,  or  the  vision 
would  dissolve  into  nothing;  and  yet  he  wanted 
to  take  hold  of  her,  and  assure  himself  in  a  most 
substantial  manner  that  it  was  all  an  actual  fact. 

There  was  much  for  her  to  do  in  picking  up  the 
odds  and  ends  left  from  the  day's  work ;  but  by 


THE   WEDDING-EVE.  99 

and  by  the  last  article  was  laid  away  in  its  place, 
the  last  thread  was  picked  up  from  the  carpet,  and 
then  she  went  to  him,  and  sat  down  on  his  lap,  and 
put  her  arms  around  his  neck,  and  her  mouth  close 
to  his  ear,  and  whispered,  — 

"Darling,  I  have  got  something  to  show  you. 
Do  you  want  to  see  it  ?  " 

For  a  moment  he  made  no  reply,  but  held  her 
silently,  but  with  eloquent  tenderness,  in  his  arms. 

"  What  do  you  want  to  show  me,  pet  ? " 

"  Do  you  really  want  to  see  it  ? "  she  asked,  try- 
ing at  the  same  time  to  look  as  if  it  were  possible 
that  he  shouldn't  want  to. 

"  Certainly  I  do.     What  is  it  ? " 

"  Come  with  me." 

She  took  up  the  lamp,  and  led  him  into  the 
parlor.  She  sat  the  light  down,  approached  a 
chair,  removed  from  it  a  garment,  and  displayed  it 
before  him,  her  eyes  glistening  with  pride  and 
expectation. 

"O  my  darling,  how  beautiful  it  is!"  he  rap- 
turously exclaimed. 

Indeed  it  was  beautiful.  They  were  to  be  mar- 
ried the  next  morning  at  ten  o'clock,  and  shortly 
after  were  to  start  on  their  trip.  The  wedding- 
silk  was  to  be  packed  up  for  the  journey,  and  she 
was  to  be  married  in  her  travelling-dress.  And 
here  it  was.  It  was  an  ashes-of-roses  color,  trimmed 
with  satin  of  a  corresponding  shade ;  and  it  was 
made  up  in  the  very  latest  style,  and  that,  to  Tom, 
appeared  to  be  the  climax  of  dressmaking  art. 


100  MR.  PHILLIPS'   GONENESS. 

It  was  a  wonderfully  pretty  dress ;  and  as  she 
held  it  against  her  shapely  form,  and  beamed  over 
its  top  upon  him  with  her  grand  eyes,  he  just  pre- 
served sufficient  calmness  to  realize  that  this  glori- 
ous picture  was  all,  all  his,  and  then  in  a  flash  he 
had  her  and  the  delicate  robe  in  one  confused 
mass  in  his  arms. 

The  surprised  girl  had  no  chance  to  give  the 
faintest  expression  to  the  horror  she  felt  at  the 
sacrilege  to  the  garment,  nor  to  make  the  least 
move  to  save  it.  It  was  all  she  was  able  to  do  to 
keep  her  breath  through  the  ordeal,  and  was  even 
inclined  to  be  thankful  that  she  came  forth  as 
whole  as  she  did. 

"Did  I  hurt  it,  darling  ?"  he  asked  with  exas- 
perating anxiety. 

"  O  Tom ! "  cried  she,  looking  aghast  at  the 
mussed  robe,  "  how  could  you  ?  " 

It  was  a  cruel  thing  to  have  done,  and  the  cul- 
prit should  have  given  evidence  of  the  liveliest 
penitence.  But  he  didn't.  On  the  contrary,  there 
was  an  undisguised  twinkle  of  amusement  in  his 
eyes.  Looking  up,  she  caught  it. 

"  What  a  great  awkward  bear  you  are ! "  she 
exclaimed  ;  and  then  she  laughed  outright. 

In  a  flash  she  was  again  struggling  in  the  great, 
strong  arms,  and  the  sacred  dress  was  lying  in  a 
crumpled  heap  on  the  carpet. 

At  the  moment  a  tap  came  at  the  door ;  and 
Lucy's  beautiful  smile,  lighting  up  the  quiet  face, 
immediately  appeared.  Tom  let  go  of  his  treasure 


THE    WEDDING-EVE.  IOI 

in  an  instant,  and  promptly  sobered  down  into  a 
degree  of  behavior  that  was  quite  comforting  to 
the  sorely  tried  Anna. 

Lucy  came  in  to  see  what  he  thought  of  the 
dress,  and  was  even  startled  out  of  tier  quiet  air 
by  the  condition  it  was  in,  but  was,  top,  discreet  to 
make  any  comments.  The  sisters  'Smoothed  its  raf- 
fled folds,  and  spoke  of  its  excellences ;  and  Lucy 
asked  Tom  if  he  didn't  think  the  dressmaker  had 
done  marvellously,  and  Tom  said  she  certainly 
had,  although  he  mentally  explained  to  himself,  as 
a  sort  of  compromise  with  his  pride,  that  she  could 
not  very  well  have  done  less,  with  such  a  perfect 
model  to  work  upon. 

To  Lucy  the  garment  was  scarcely  less  a  delight 
than  to  the  dawning  bride.  Wedding-garments 
and  baby-clothes  have  a  claim  peculiar  to  them- 
selves upon  a  woman's  heart.  This  is  not  shared 
with  any  thing  else,  or  affected  by  any  thing  else. 
It  is  an  isolated  attachment,  and  lasts  while  life 
exists.  To  Lucy  the  travelling-dress  in  which  her 
sister  was  on  the  morrow  to  begin  a  new  existence 
revived  no  memories,  and  shaped  no  expectations. 
She  never  had  "company,"  and  there  was  none  in 
prospect.  And  yet  the  grave  face  grew  graver  as 
she  bent  over  it,  and  a  tender  dreaminess  came 
into  her  eyes.  Unconsciously,  even  to  herself, 
she  was  thinking  far  ahead  into  the  future ;  not 
grasping  its  possibilities  by  any  means,  but  simply 
wondering  if  it  would  contain  any.  Unconsciously 
she  sighed  as  she  laid  down  the  robe,  and  thought- 
fully walked  from  the  room. 


102  MR.  PHILLIPS1   GONENESS. 

When  she  was  gone,  Tqm  and  Anna  returned  to 
the  sitting-room ;  and  it  now  being  deserted,  he 
took  the  rocker,  and  she  nestled  down  in  his  arms. 

"Darling,  can  you  realize  that  this  is  the  last 
night  you'  are*  trr visit  me  ? "  she  asked. 
,  ,  "No,  pet,  I  cannot.  I  have  tried  to  think  all 
1'frc  .etferii rig; that  this' is  the  last  time  I  am  to  leave 
you,  that  to-morrow  we  are  to  be  united  forever ; 
but  I  cannot  grasp  it.  It  all  seems  a  dream  to  me. 
I've  looked  forward  to  it  so  much,  I've  pictured  it 
so  often,  that  I  cannot  realize  that  the  reality  is 
here,  —  that  the  eve  of  our  marriage  has  actually 
come.  But  it  is  here.  This  is  the  last  night  I  am 
to  go  away  from  you.  No  more  '  good-nights  ; ' 
and  no  more  long,  cold,  cheerless  walks,  every  step 
a  torture  because  it  was  taking  me  from  this  para- 
dise. Thank  heaven,  it  is  all  over  with !  and  to- 
morrow I  shall  take  you  to  myself  forever  more, 
my  beautiful,  beautiful  darling !  " 

"And  has  it  been  so  hard  for  you  to  go  away 
from  me  nights,  darling  ? " 

"  Has  it  ?     Can  you  ask  such  a  question,  pet  ? " 

"  I  know,  Tom  ;  but  don't  you  think  it  has  been 
hard  for  me  to  have  you  go  ? " 

"  I  suppose  it  was,  dear  one ;  but  it  never 
seemed  so." 

"  Well,  it  has  been  very  hard-  to  bear.  But  it 
don't  make  any  difference  now  :  does  it,  Tom  ? 
This  is  the  last  night  we  shall  be  separated.  To- 
morrow night,  darling,  you  will  be  "  — 

She  stopped,  and  buried  her  face  in  his  neck. 


THE   WEDDING-EVE.  103 

"  I  will  be  what,  darling  ? " 

She  placed  her  lips  to  his  ear,  and  drew  her 
arms  tighter  about  his  neck.  All  the  love  in  her 
heart  freighted  the  whisper,  — 

"  MY  HUSBAND." 


104  MR.  PHILLIPS'   GONENESS. 


CHAPTER   XI. 

AT   LAST. 

THE  wedding-day  dawned  as  bright  and  clear  as 
is  possible  for  a  day  in  winter  to  be.  The  snow 
covered  the  earth,  and  it  glistened  in  the  rays  of 
the  sun.  The  air  was  warm  for  the  season,  —  so 
warm,  that  the  snow  crystallized  in  the  fields,  and 
melted  in  the  streets. 

Tom  Griggs'  trunk  (the  circumstances  of  the 
twain  permitted  but  one),  with  his  own  garments 
packed  in  it,  was  sent  at  an  early  hour  to  the  Bay- 
ard mansion  to  receive  Anna's  clothes.  Tom  felt 
such  a  delightful  sensation  in  the  fact  that  her 
clothes  were  to  lie  next  to  his  in  his  trunk !  It 
gave  him  the  proud  sense  of  possession  that  noth- 
ing else  short  of  the  marriage-tie  could  give. 

It  was  a  very  nervous  day  for  Tom  ;  but  he  got 
through  with  the  duties  of  the  morning  all  right, 
although  it  was  within  a  half-hour  of  performing 
the  service  when  he  arrived  at  the  house  in  a  hack. 
He  had  a  new  suit  of  clothes  throughout,  but  he 
did  not  look  impressive.  Grooms  never  do  :  that 
is  reserved  for  the  bride. 

The  home  of  his  Anna  had  taken  on  a  strange 


AT  LAST.  105 

appearance.  Every  thing  was  in  a  state  of  change. 
Bustle  was  everywhere  apparent,  and  nothing 
seemed  settled  or  natural.  He  was  aware  of  being 
quite  pale  and  ill  at  ease  himself.  Somehow  there 
was  not  that  sweet,  quiet,  peaceful  joy  he  had  an- 
ticipated. The  expected  triumph  was  weakened 
by  a  sense  of  perspiration.  The  romance  was 
blunted  by  the  all-prevailing  evidence  of  practi- 
cability. 

He  was  shown  upstairs  to  the  front  bedroom, 
where  he  found  the  expectant  bride,  her  sister, 
and  two  young  lady-friends.  To  Tom's  agitated 
gaze  this  trio  bore  the  appearance  of  immediate 
friends  of  the  deceased.  His  darling  was  too 
nervous,  under  the  excitement  of  preparation,  to 
shed  much  love  upon  him.  She  was  getting  on 
her  gloves,  and  adjusting  a  bow,  and  trying  her 
skirts ;  and  so  the  poor  girl  had  hands  and  mind 
full  to  overflowing. 

"Why,  Tom,  what  kept  you  so  late?"  she 
managed  to  gasp. 

"  I  couldn't  help  it.     Every  thing  went  wrong." 

It  always  does. 

"  Is  it  all  right  behind  ? "  she  nervously  asked. 
This  was  addressed  to  one  of  the  young  ladies, 
and  referred  to  the  set  of  her  skirt.  The  party 
questioned  hastened  to  assure  her  that  "it  was  just 
lovely." 

It  certainly  was.  Perhaps  the  dear  girl  did  not 
realize  it,  —  how  could  she  under  the  circum- 
stances ? —  but  she  appeared  superbly.  Her 


106  MR.  PHILLIPS*  GONENESS. 

shapely  form  was  set  off  to  the  best  advantage  by 
the  graceful  robe.  Her  face,  always  beautiful  in 
the  cut  of  the  features,  was  radiant  with  the  happy 
excitement  that  rilled  her  life,  and  the  glorious 
eyes  were  ablaze  with  the  expectant  glow  of  the 
hour.  As  full  of  trepidation  as  was  Tom  Griggs, 
he  could  not  help  noticing  her  wondrous  loveliness, 
and  thanking  heaven  that  all  this  radiance  was  his 
own. 

There  was  a  fidgety  air  upon  them  all,  except- 
ing, perhaps,  Lucy,  whose  tranquil  face  became  all 
the  more  composed  as  compared  with  those  about 
her. 

The  minister  had  arrived,  and  his  voice  could 
be  heard  on  the  lower  floor.  This  was  reported  by 
one  of  the  young  ladies,  who  had  resolved  herself 
into  a  committee  of  one,  and  had  stationed  herself 
at  the  head  of  the  stair,  with  a  hearing  apparatus 
tuned  to  its  highest  pitch. 

The  moment  had  arrived.  Mrs.  Bayard,  very 
much  flustered,  appeared  in  person  to  see  if  all 
was  ready  here,  as  every  thing  was  in  readiness 
and  waiting  there.  She  was  dressed  in  a  stiff, 
unwieldy  black  silk,  and  appeared  so  uncomfort- 
able as  to  make  Tom  wince.  Anna  had  been 
satisfactorily  impressed  with  the  fact  that  her 
dress  could  not  fit  better  by  any  possibility ;  and 
now,  as  her  mother  appeared,  they  were  fastening 
on  her  bonnet.  With  this  done,  she  stood  com- 
plete to  travel ;  and  as  there  was  but  little  time 
intervening  between  the  ceremony  and  the  train's 


AT  LAST.  107 

starting,  and  as  they  were  to  have  a  lunch,  it 
looked  very  much,  as  Mr.  Quimby  himself  ex- 
pressed it,  as  if  they  were  going  to  "  take  a  bite, 
and  run." 

The  announcement  that  the  minister  was  wait- 
ing increased  the  trepidation  of  the  twain  for 
whom  he  was  waiting.  It  was  a  momentous 
event.  For  ever  and  ever  they  were  to  be  united. 
Was  there  the  faintest  lurking  of  a  fear  in  the 
heart  of  either  ?  No  :  they  loved  each  other  too 
devotedly  for  this.  He  knew,  that,  when  he  took 
her  to  be  his  wife,  he  was  taking  an  angel  into  his 
life.  She  felt  perfectly  safe  in  giving  the  keeping 
of  herself  forever  into  his  charge,  to  cut  herself 
forever  adrift  from  her  home,  because  he  loved 
her.  There  was  no  one  on  earth,  or  in  the  heaven 
above  the  earth,  that  she  trusted  as  she  trusted 
him.  Nevertheless  there  was  a  solemnity  in  this 
severing  of  all  former  ties,  and  taking  upon  them- 
selves a  new  tie ;  and,  also,  there  was  a  vague 
sense  of  dreaminess  in  the  consummation  of  the 
event  to  which  their  hopes  and  desires  had  looked, 
as  if  it  could  not  be  all  real. 

The  mother  and  the  two  young  ladies  proceeded 
downstairs,  across  the  hall,  and  into  the  parlor ; 
and  following  them  came  the  two.  Her  arm  rested 
in  his,  and  he  could  feel  it  tremble.  He  was 
powerless  to  strengthen  her,  being  himself  too 
nervous  to  even  command  his  own  resources ;  but 
he  was  very  proud  and  very  happy. 

The  minister  rose  as  they  entered.    The  friends, 


108  MR.  PHILLIPS'   GONENESS. 

grouped  about  the  room,  searchingly  observed 
them.  They  took  the  position  assigned  them,  and 
the  minister  began  the  ceremony.  In  five  minutes 
it  was  over.  The  dream  of  their  lives  was  realized  : 
she  was  his  wife ;  he  was  her  husband. 

"Mrs.  Griggs,  permit  me  to  congratulate  you, 
and  to  wish  you  a  long  and  happy  wedded  life." 
It  was  her  pastor  who  addressed  her.  He  was  the 
first  to  break  the  embarrassing  silence  that  fol- 
lowed the  ceremony. 

Mrs.  Griggs  !  How  simple  the  words  !  but,  ah  ! 
how  much  they  expressed  to  her !  Yes  :  she  was 
no  longer  Anna  Bayard,  courted  by  Tom  Griggs  ; 
but  she  was  now  Mrs.  Griggs.  It  was  the  badge 
of  a  new  existence,  the  diploma  of  a  graduated 
joy.  His  wife,  with  his  own  name  !  In  the  pro- 
nunciation of  that  simple  title  was  revealed  the 
crowning  of  a  life-hope,  the  fruition  of  an  intense 
desire,  the  fulfilment  of  a  daily  dream. 

What  a  thrill  the  name  brought  to  her !  what  a 
thrill  it  brought  to  him  !  There  was  this  difference 
between  the  two,  as  it  always  has  been  and  always 
will  be  in  loving  wedded  twains :  to  her  it  was  a 
sensation  of  being  possessed ;  to  him  it  was  the 
sensation  of  possessing. 

After  the  congratulations  the  party  adjourned 
to  the  sitting-room,  "  where,"  as  the  next  issue  of 
"The  Gazette"  expressed  it,  "an  ample  lunch 
was  prepared,"  to  which  they  gathered  with  the 
best  of  feeling,  because  every  one  was  delighted, 
as  every  one  feels  in  duty  bound  to  be  at  a  wed- 
ding. 


AT  LAST.  109 

And  every  one  ate  with  a  relish,  and  cracked 
jokes,  and  laughed,  and  said  things  that,  isolated 
by  themselves,  would  have  been  highly  ridiculous, 
if  not  criminally  silly,  but  which  made  more 
laughter.  Anna  blushed  and  laughed,  and  had 
great  difficulty  in  keeping  her  veil  from  her  face, 
and  was  afraid  she  would  get  something  on  her 
dress ;  and  Tom  sat  by  her,  with  his  face  wreathed 
in  a  perpetual  smile,  and  handled  his  food  in  a 
manner  that  very  clearly  indicated  he  was  uncon- 
scious what  he  was  putting  in  his  mouth. 

Mrs.  Quimby,  with  a  new  flannel  (selected  espe- 
cially for  the  happy  occasion)  swathing  her  neck, 
and  the  arnica  toned  down  by  a  generous  infusion 
of  bergamot  (the  poor  man's  friend  on  festive 
events),  beamed  upon  the  company  with  a  face  all 
aglow  with  delight ;  while  Mr.  Quimby,  in  the 
fever  of  the  general  excitement,  fully  explained  to 
the  clergyman  the  intricate  process  by  which  eels 
are  successfully  bobbed  for,  with  a  few  valuable 
hints  thrown  in  on  the  best  way  of  scaling  snakes 
without  "  squoshin'  'em  "  in  the  performance. 

Dockerty  was  there  in  all  the  glory  of  a  green 
jacket  with  limitless  buttons ;  and,  with  character- 
istic perseverance,  conquered  and  completely  put 
down  seven  pieces  of  very  rich  cake,  and  four  cups 
of  very  strong  coffee,  —  an  act  of  devotion  to  the 
newly  married  couple  that  very" nearly  cost  him  his 
precious  life  the  following  night. 

Mr.  Phillips  was  there  also,  dressed  in  an  array 
of  black  that  was  the  extreme  of  imposing,  and  de- 


HO  MR.   PHILLIPS'   GONENESS. 

siring,  way  down  in  his  heart,  to  laugh  with  the 
loudest ;  but,  repressing  the  inclination  through  a 
stern  sense  of  what  was  due  to  his  lately  lacerated 
feelings,  he  devoted  himself  to  the  food  instead, 
and  with  an  energy  that  bid  fair  indeed  to  com- 
pletely repair  the  "goneness." 

The  lunch  completed,  the  carriage  appeared. 
The  treasured  trunk  was  placed  upon  it,  the  bride 
and  groom  and  Lucy  and  the  mother  within  it,  and 
two  other  carriages  with  friends  followed ;  and 
thus  the  party  proceeded  to  the  railway-station, 
where  the  happy  twain  were  to  take  their  depart- 
ure on  the  long-coveted  bridal  tour. 

It  had  been  Tom's  ambition  to  have  this  appear 
to  the  outside  world  like  an  ordinary  journey  of  a 
long-married  couple,  and  he  flattered  himself  that 
every  thing  was  working  that  way  to  a  charm. 
Anna  did  not  wear  the  traditional  white  hat  with  the 
traditional  long  veil ;  and  he  was  not  dressed  in 
that  startling  array  of  newness  of  exterior  which 
he  had  noticed  as  being  so  conspicuous  in  fresh 
grooms.  And  so  he  took  unto  himself  the  com- 
forting assurance  that  no  one  would  suspect  his 
and  her  freshness,  and  that  much  embarrassment 
would  thereby  be  saved.  *  Poor  fellow !  he  did  not 
realize  that  the  blushing  face  of  his  wife,  her 
clinging  ways,  her  shrinking  eyes,  were  telling  the 
story  as  plainly  as  if  all  the  particulars  were  bulle- 
tined all  over  her  person  in  the  very  largest  type ; 
to  say  nothing  of  his  own  shining  eyes,  his  nervous 
movements,  and  his  overstrained,  gigantic  efforts 
to  appear  careless  and  indifferent. 


AT  LAST.  ill 

But,  for  all  this,  it  was  a  blissful  journey.  He 
pointed  out  all  objects  of  interest  to  her,  and  did  it 
with  a  delight  that  was  manifest  in  every  vibration 
of  his  voice.  And  then,  when  the  day  advanced, 
and  she  grew  tired,  she  rested  her  head  upon  his 
shoulder  with  such  a  precious  sense  of  rest,  and  he 
clasped  her  hand  in  one  of  his,  and  put  the  other 
arm  about  her ;  and  the  cars  glided  on,  and  they 
two  whispered  softly  to  each  other,  and  were  bliss- 
fully, blissfully  happy. 

Would  the  dream  ever  end  ? 


112  MR.  PHILLIPS*   GONENESS. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

MR.  PHILLIPS    SAVES   THE   OFFICE. 

THE  employees  of   "The  Gallowhill    Gazette", 
were  at  the  station  to  see  the  young  couple  off, 
and  made  the  characteristic  remarks  among  men 
on  such  an  occasion. 

"  What  did  you  think  of  it,  old  cock  ? "  convivi- 
ally  observed  Mr.  Phillips,  slapping  Redner  on  the 
back,  as  they  walked  from  the  station. 

"  It  passed  off  very  nicely,  I  imagine,"  said  the 
young  man. 

"  You  bet  it  did !  She  was  a  beauty,  wasn't 
she  ?  I  wouldn't  mind  being  in  Griggs'  shoes  my- 
self. By  Judas  !  didn't  she  show  off  stunning  ? " 
Mr.  Phillips  smacked  his  lips,  and  suddenly  as- 
sumed a  grave  expression,  as  if  he  was  deeply 
impressed  by  the  circumstance. 

At  this  juncture  the  party,  consisting  of  the 
office-hands,  reached  the  hotel. 

."Hold  on,  fellers!"  he  cried.  "The  boss 
wanted  me  to  stand  treat  for  you,  and  here's  just 
the  place  to  do  it.  Come  in." 

Without  further  ado,  Mr.  Phillips  started  inside, 
followed  readily  by  his  companions. 


MR.  PHILLIPS  SAVES   THE  OFFICE.          113 

Ezekiah  had  received,  as  he  intimated,  an  in- 
junction from  Tom  to  treat  his  fellow-workmen, 
and  had  been  given  five  dollars  for  that  purpose. 
Five  dollars'  worth  of  drink  dispensed  to  two  men 
and  a  boy  would,  he  reasoned,  so  unfit  them  for 
their  duties,  that  the  office-work  must  necessarily 
run  behind.  He  was  too  conscientious  an  agent 
to  permit  this  ;  so  he  discreetly  maintained  silence 
upon  the  amount  of  the  appropriation,  and  re- 
,  solved  that  two  rounds  were  amply  sufficient  for 
the  occasion,  and  the  balance  he  would  devote  in 
the  evening  to  several  boon  companions,  who,  not 
being  in  any  way  connected  with  the  office,  could 
not  by  any  means  endanger  its  interests,  however 
full  they  might  get.  With  this  laudable  conclu- 
sion reached,  he  walked  up  to  the  bar,  and  cheer- 
fully observed,  — 

"  What  will  it  be,  boys  ?    Mine  is  cider-brandy." 

"I  guess  I'll  take  a  little  Santa  Cruz,"  said 
Hazelton  in  the  subdued  voice  of  a  regular  prac- 
titioner. 

"Give  me  a  bourbon  straight,"  ordered  young 
Goodwin  in  a  tone  of  swagger. 

Redner  said  he  wpuld  take  a  piece  of  pie  and  a 
glass  of  soda-water. 

"  Lippy  "  called  for  a  glass  of  ale. 

The  refreshments  being  disposed  of  after  an 
appropriate  introductory  remark  from  Mr.  Phillips, 
that  gentleman  recklessly  enunciated,  — 

"  Fill  'em  up  again." 

This  was  done,  and  the  contents  speedily  trans- 
ferred to  their  several  destinies. 


H4  MR.  PHILLIPS'   GONENESS. 

Mr.  Phillips,  feeling  that  the  desire  of  his  em- 
ployer had  been  judiciously  carried  out,  returned 
to  the  office,  while  the  others  went  to  dinner. 

About  nine  o'clock  that  night  Mr.  Phillips,  four 
congenial  friends,  a  package  of  cigars,  and  an 
apparently  unlimited  supply  of  cider-brandy,  occu- 
pied the  office  of  "The  Gazette." 

At  two  A.M.  the  moon,  looking  in  at  one  of  the 
windows,  saw  the  form  of  the  foreman  of  "The 
Gazette"  prostrate  on  the  floor,  with  his  head, 
propped  up  by  a  pile  of  paper  that  his  friends  had 
thoughtfully  arranged  for  him.  For  some  time 
the  full  face  of  the  moon  ^peered  in  upon  this 
spectacle ;  but  the  object  of  the  attention  knew 
nought  of  it.  With  his  mouth  well  opened,  he 
slumbered,  the  guttural  sounds  arising  from  his 
throat  filling  the  deserted  room  with  strange 
noises. 

At  five  A.M.  Mr.  Phillips  opened  his  eyes,  and 
gave  a  start.  For  a  moment  there  was  a  dread- 
fully confused  condition  of  mind,  in  which  he 
realized  nothing  but  the  fact  that  it  was  quite 
dark.  The  next  moment  came  the  consciousness 
that  he  was  lying  down  ;  but  where  ?  If  on  his 
own  bed,  how  did  he  come  there  ?  He  had  no  rec- 
ollection of  going  home.  He  had  no  recollection 
of  any  thing  but  smoke  and  drink  and  boisterous 
merriment,  —  and  after  that  a  blank.  Into  this 
blank  he  could  not  advance  a  single  inch.  He 
rose  on  his  elbow,  and  rubbed  his  eyes.  The 
action  cleared  his  mind  somewhat,  and  the  re- 


MR.   PHILLIPS  SAVES  THE   OFFICE.          115 

cruited  eyes  saw  the  dim  light  coming  in  at  the 
windows ;  and  then  Mr.  Phillips  comprehended  the 
situation  in  all  its  stirring  details,  and  with  a  groan 
he  sank  back  on  his  pillow  of  papers.  For  another 
moment  he  gave  himself  up  fully  to  the  wretched- 
ness of  his  feelings.  Then  he  rose  up  to  a  sitting 
posture.  His  head  felt  very  much  as  if  the  upper 
part  of  the  skull  had  been  split  clear  around.  His 
mouth  was  parched,  his  tongue  swollen,  his  throat 
utterly  dried  up. 

He  took  hold  of  his  head  with  both  hands 
tightly,  as  if  to  keep  the  upper  part  from  coming 
off.  How  horribly  it  ached !  Alternate  flashes 
of  heat  and  cold  shot  over  his  frame.  Mr.  Phil- 
lips thought  there  never  had  existed  so  horrible  a 
condition  as  this.  He  got  up  on  his  feet,  shivering 
until  his  teeth  chattered.  The  instant  he  assumed 
an  erect  position  the  room  began  to  tilt  up  at  one 
side,  and  then  started  to  turn  around  with  him. 
It  was  only  by  clutching  a  post  with  a  desperate 
grip  that  he  saved  himself  from  being  thrown. 
Thus  holding  on,  he  shut  his  eyes,  and  for  a 
moment  let  things  swim.  Then  he  opened  them 
again,  but  hung  to  the  post ;  and  the  location  of 
his  goneness  quivered  under  a  sensation  of  deathly 
sickness. 

He  tried  to  think  what  he  had  been  doing 
through  the  carousal,  and  at  the  same  time  strove 
with  all  his  might  to  keep  the  subject  from  his 
harrowed  mind.  He  recollected  having  said  with 
great  distinctness  and  much  feeling,  three  several 
times,  — 


Il6  MR.   PHILLIPS'   GONENESS. 

"Ain't  this  just  solid  happiness?  No  cold- 
water  sneaks  are  we  !  Set  'em  up,  boys  !  Whoop  ! " 

Oh,  how  he  cursed  himself  for  the  utterance, 
and  prayed  that  the  dreadful  words  might  die  out 
of  his  memory  forever !  But  they  would  not. 
They  shot  into  his  mind  through  every  lull,  how- 
ever brief,  in  the  memories  and  fancies  and  horrors 
that  crowded  upon  him ;  and  every  time  they  came 
to  him  he  groaned  aloud.  Weak,  trembling,  and 
half-crazed  by  remorse,  he  found  his  way  to  the 
water-pipe,  and  helped  himself  freely  to  the  liquid 
which  but  a  few  hours  before  he  declared  with 
vehemence  to  be  fit  only  for  babes  and  old  women. 
For  a  moment  this  draught  revived  him,  in  which 
he  began  to  hope  that  things  were  not  really  so 
bad  as  his  parched  system  had  believed  them  to 
be.  If  he  had  not  been  out  on  the  street  during 
the  unconscious  part  of  the  carousal,  making  an 
ass  of  himself,  —  the  reflection  caused  him  to 
shiver,  —  he  might  face  the  affair  out  with  his 
companions. 

Where  were  they  ?  How  drunk  had  they  been  ? 
—  too  drunk  to  have  noted  his  calamity  ?  or  too 
much  so  to  care  to  compromise  themselves  by 
"  blowing "  on  him  ?  Perhaps  so.  He  began  to 
take  courage.  But,  if  they  had  been  overpowered 
to  that  degree,  how  could  they  have  got  away  from 
the  office  while  he  was  left  prostrate  ?  He  groaned 
as  this  prop  weakened.  Then,  too,  he  thought  of 
his  position  on  the  floor,  and  the  improvised  pillow 
of  papers,  which  arrangement  showed  intelligent 


MR.  PHILLIPS  SAVES   THE   OFFICE.          117 

action  on  their  part.  And  when  this  fully  revealed 
itself,  and  the  re-action  from  the  draught  of  water 
set  in,  Mr.  Phillips  grew  deathly  sick. 

Then  came  trooping  through  his  inflamed  mind 
recollections  of  the  boasts  he  had  made,  and  the 
speeches  he  had  uttered,  and  the  songs  he  had 
sung  during  the  convivial  hours.  They  rose  up 
in  dazzling  contrast  to  his  present  awful  humili- 
ation, and  he  cursed  aloud  his  "  brilliancy  (?) " 
Again  he  applied  himself  to  the  water-pipe ;  but 
his  chilled  stomach  refused  to  rally,  while  the 
pain  in  his  head  grew  more  dense.  How  heartily 
he  despised  himself  !  How  thoroughly  debased 
he  appeared  in  his  own  eyes !  How  sincerely  he 
cursed  himself  for  ever  touching  a  drop  of  the 
infernal  stuff! 

Then  came  another  phase  to  the  troop  of 
thoughts,  in  which  hope  made  a  desperate  strug- 
gle for  the  mastery.  He  would  pretend  to  his  late 
companions,  when  he  met  them  (here  he  shivered, 
and  hope  very  nearly  went  under),  that  he  had  been 
"  playing  off  "  all  the  while,  and  knew  when  they 
left  just  as  well  as  they  knew  it  themselves.  To 
this  end  he  brought  his  scattered  wits  to  bear 
upon  the  case,  that  he  might  recall  something  that 
was  done  at  the  time  of  breaking  up ;  but  they 
were  poor,  feeble  wits  at  the  best,  and,  exercise 
them  as  he  might,  he  could  not  get  them  beyond  a 
certain  point  in  the  carnival.  All  after  that  was  a 
blank,  the  more  frightful  because  of  its  hidden 
possibilities.  What  awful  folly  had  he  been  guilty 


Ii8  MR.  PHILLIPS'   GONENESS. 

of  during  that  period  ?  His  inflamed  imagination 
pictured  the  height  of  silliness  as  filling  it,  and  he 
shivered  even  while  the  perspiration  broke  through 
his  fevered  skin. 

He  lighted  the  gas, — his  hand  trembling  so,  he 
could  scarcely  hold  the  match,  — and  looked  shrink- 
ingly  about  the  room.  There  were  still  standing 
the  boards  on  which  the  spread  had  been  made. 
On  this  table  stood  some  shreds  of  bologna,  a  lot 
of  broken  crackers,  several  cigar-stumps,  a  bottle, 
and  two  glasses.  At  the  sight  of  each  of  these 
eloquent  reminders  of  his  folly  he  groaned  afresh. 
He  looked  on  the  floor,  and  saw  the  wreck  of  two 
other  tumblers,  and  two  more  bottles,  and  other 
reminiscences  of  the  colossal  shame. 

He  was  obliged  to  gather  them  up,  although 
every  downward  motion  sent  the  pain  surging  in 
waves  of  agony  to  above  his  eyes.  But  he  has- 
tened to  clear  away  the  vestiges ;  for  in  a  little 
while  people  would  be  stirring  on  the  street  and 
at  the  house,  and  he  wanted  to  get  home  unob- 
served. All  the  while  he  was  doing  this  his  mind 
was  on  the  rack  in  its  effort  to  recall  the  events 
of  the  preceding  evening,  and  to  strive  to  pierce 
the  veil  between  memory  and  the  awakening.  He 
shrank  with  a  sickening  sensation  from  each  res- 
urrected horror;  yet  the  subject  possessed  a  fasci- 
nation that  he  could  not  resist. 

The  last  memory  of  the  affair  that  he  could 
clutch  was  hearing  the  clock  strike  twelve,  and 
some  one  suggest  that  they  had  better  break  up. 


MR.  PHILLIPS  SAVES   THE  OFFICE.         119 

He  could  not  identify  this  person ;  but  he  recol- 
lected that  he  had  two  heads,  and  that,  on  the  sug- 
gestion being  made,  he  himself  had  jumped  up, 
and  smitten  the  table  with  great  feeling,  and  had 
vehemently  cried,  — 

"  Not  by  a  damn  sight !  We  won't  go  home  till 
morning,  brothers.  Set  'em  up  !  Hoop-la !  " 

At  the  recollection  of  this  dreadful  speech,  the 
natural  solemnity  of  Mr.  Phillips'  face  intensified 
to  a  degree  that  was  simply  appalling.  His  great 
eyes,  now  bloodshot,  rolled  hysterically  in  their 
sockets ;  and  his  long,  drooping  nose  showed  the 
clearest  disposition  to  dive  into  his  bosom,  and 
take  refuge  under  his  vest. 

"  I  never  shall  touch  another  drop  of  liquor  as 
long  as  I  live ! "  he  cried  in  a  frenzy  of  remorse. 
"Never,  NEVER,  NEVER!"  he  reiterated  with 
increased  vehemence. 

Then  he  turned  out  the  gas,  and  took  his  shiver- 
ing frame  and  demoralized  system  and  splitting 
head  to  his  boarding-house.  This  and  his  room 
he  reached  without  being  seen  by  anybody.  The 
room  was  very  dark  and  very  cold  :  the  former  he 
relieved  by  lighting  a  lamp ;  but  from  the  latter 
there  was  no  relief,  except  by  going  to  bed.  This 
he  did  not  dare  do,  for  fear  that  his  slumber  would 
be  heavy,  and  carry  him  well  into  the  forenoon. 
He  had  a  presentiment  that  one  or  more  of  his 
.  late  companions  would  be  at  the  office  early  to  see 
about  him,  and  he  wanted  to  be  there  to  show  that 
he  was  not  so  overcome  as  they  imagined  him  to 
be.  He  would  not  —  he  must  not  —  miss  that. 


120  MR.  PHILLIPS*  GONENESS. 

Then  there  was  another  reason  why  he  should 
keep  awake.  He  had  been  directed  by  his  chief 
to  attend  a  political  convention  in  a  neighboring 
town  the  following  day,  and  would  have  to  go 
to-day  to  be  there  at  the  caucus  in  the  evening. 
He  was  in  no  condition  to  do  this.  A  funeral  or 
an  execution  would  have  been  more  in  his  line, 
were  he  able  to  report  any  thing  in  his  frightfully 
demoralized  state.  He  determined  to  send  Redner 
in  his  stead ;  and  he  must  see  him  early,  as  the 
only  available  train  for  this  place  left  Gallowhill  at 
ten  A.M. 

So  he  sat  on  the  bed,  and  pulled  the  clothes 
around  him,  and  waited  until  he  heard  Redner, 
who  occupied  the  next  room,  getting  up. 

Then  he  went  in  there,  and  told  him  what  to  do, 
with  directions  how  to  do  it.  This  done,  Ezekiah 
returned  to  his  own  room,  emptied  the  water- 
pitcher  into  his  feverish  throat,  arranged  his  toilet, 
and  went  downstairs  to  wrestle  with  a  cup  of 
coffee. 


REDNER   WRITES  A  LETTER.  121 


CHAPTER   XIII. 

REDNER   WRITES    A   LETTER. 

IT  was  a  long  ride,  and  to  the  ordinary  traveller 
it  was  a  tedious  one ;  but  Redner  had  armed  him- 
self with  copies  of  "The  Ledger,"  "Weekly,"  and 
"  Saturday  Night ; "  and  with  this  array  of  palata- 
ble nourishment  he  was  well  fortified  against 
weariness.  Besides,  the  novelty  of  the  mission, 
and  the  prospect  of  writing  something  that  was  to 
go  into  print,  were  in  themselves  sufficient  to  lift 
his  mind  to  a  plane  far  above  that  pursued  by  a 
railroad.  So  Redner  buried  himself  in  the  for- 
tunes and  misfortunes  of  the  several  heroes  and 
heroines,  and  saw  a  George  Redner  in  every  one 
of  the  former,  and  a  quiet-faced,  blue-eyed  girl  in 
every  one  of  the  latter. 

He  was  scarcely  aware  that  any  time  had 
passed,  when  the  four-hours'  ride  was  over,  and 
he  was  at  his  destination.  He  found  his  way  to 
a  hotel,  and  saw,  on  reaching  it,  that  most  of  the 
delegates  were  stopping  there.  He  got  a  room 
and  his  dinner,  and  then  went  down  into  the 
office  and  the  reading  and  bar  rooms,  moving 
about  among  the  men  there  assembled,  and  listen- 
ing to  what  they  said. 


122  MR.  PHILLIPS1   GONENESS. 

He  found  men  in  pairs  or  groups  at  every  step. 
Some  were  talking  loud ;  others  in  low,  confiden- 
tial whispers.  Although  young  in  years,  and  new 
to  this  business,  he  did  not  fail  to  notice  that 
these  men  wore  an  incongruous  appearance.  They 
looked  like  muffled  drums,  or  Shakers  in  plaid 
pants,  or  a  seal-skin  sacque  on  a  lawn  dress.  They 
were,  for  the  most  part,  tawny-haired  and  tawny- 
bearded  men,  dressed  in  black,  and  stiff  in  move- 
ment. When  one  was  not  awkward,  he  was  fop- 
pish to  a  degree  that  was  offensive.  He  tried 
to  associate  these  uncomfortably  rigged  people 
with  their  homes  and  their  home  pursuits,  but 
fell  back  from  the  task  defeated  and  chagrined. 

The  short,  thin  man,  looking  fully  ten  years 
older  than  he  really  was,  with  a  stoop  to  his 
shoulders,  and  long  white  hairs  on  the  back  of 
his  hands,  he  strove  to  picture  following  a  plough, 
or  pitching  hay,  or  foddering  cattle ;  and  then  he 
looked  at  the  shiny  black  suit,  and  sighed.  A 
burly  man,  with  nobs  on  his  hands,  and  short,  flat, 
broken,  begrimed  nails  at  the  ends  of  his  fingers, 
he  was  anxious  to  believe  was  a  mechanic,  and  he 
tried  to  put  him  alongside  of  a  bench  in  a  dusty 
shop ;  but  he  looked  at  the  shiny  black  suit,  and 
sighed  again. 

It  was  a  painful  spectacle,  and  depressed  the 
spirits  of  the  young  reporter.  He  grew  tired  of 
wandering  among  these  men,  whose  faces  were  as 
strange  as  their  appearance  was  incongruous.  He 
grew  tired  of  the  catarrhal  manifestations,  the 


REDNER   WRITES  A   LETTER.  123 

elevated  feet,  the  loud  guffaws.  He  was  prepar- 
ing to  go  out  on  the  street,  when  he  was  touched 
on  the  arm  by  a  short,  stubby  man,  dressed  in 
coarse  clothes,  and  wearing  a  rather  broken  and 
rusty  fur  cap.  The  face  was  as  strange  as  the  rest 
to  Redner,  and  was  a  very  freckled  face,  with 
large,  colorless  eyes. 

"  I  hope  you'll  excuse  my  speaking  to  you,  sir," 
said  the  owner  of  these  features ;  "  but  ain't  you 
the  gentleman  that  writes  for  'The  Gallowhill 
Gazette'?" 

"  I  am,"  said  the  young  man,  with  unction. 

"  I'm  from  Gallowhill,  myself,"  volunteered  the 
man.  This  was  not  said  in  a  tone  of  sympathy, 
but  rather  of  congratulation. 

".Are  you?  "  said  Redner  indifferently. 

"Yes,  sir.  I  have  been  to  work  here  cutting 
stone  for  the  past  six  weeks.  You  never  seen  me 
in  Gallowhill,  I  guess." 

"  No." 

"  How's  Mr.  Griggs  ?  He's  to  be  married  soon, 
ain't  he  ? " 

"  He  was  married  yesterday."  Redner  said  this 
rather  stiffly,  as  he  could  not  understand  what 
business  it  was  to  the  man. 

"  Yesterday,  was  it  ?  Well,  I  declare  !  I  knowed 
he  was  a-going  to  be  married  afore  I  come  away ; 
but  I  didn't  know  when,  though.  An'  so  it  was 
yesterday,  hey  ?  Well,  I  guess  my  old  woman  had 
her  hands  full." 

"  Your   wife  ?  "    suggested   Redner,   wondering 


124  MR.   PHILLIPS'   GONENESS. 

what  she  could  have  had  to  do  with  the  ceremony, 
yet  glad  that  he  stood  and  talked  with  the  hus- 
band of  one  who  had  been  under  the  same  roof 
with  Lucy. 

"  Yes :  she  washes  for  Mrs.  Bayard,  and  helps 
'em  when  they  have  any  thing  going  on.  I  got  a 
letter  from  her  the  other  day,  an*  she  said  the  wed- 
ding was  a-coming  off  putty  soon,  an'  she  would 
have  to  be  there  a  couple  of  days  or  so  to  help 
'em.  Maybe  you  have  seen  her  there,  or  heard 
them  speak  of  her.  Her  name  is  Martha  Ting." 

Redner  explained  that  he  had  been  in  Gallow- 
hill  but  a  few  weeks,  and  had  not  visited  the 
Bayards. 

The  man  paused  a  moment,  and  looked  uneasily 
about  the  room.  When  he  spoke  again,  it  was  hesi- 
tatingly :  "I  thought,  sir,  I'd  like  to  ask  you  for  a 
favor,  if  you've  a  mind." 

"A  favor,  eh?"  said  the  young  man.  "What 
is  it  ? " 

"  I  wanted  to  ask  you  if  you'd  mind  doing  up  a 
short  letter  for  me  to  the  old  woman.  You  see, 
sir,  I  ain't  much  of  a  hand  at  such  business ;  an' 
with  the  working  in  the  stone  my  fingers  is  that 
stiff  that  I  couldn't  well  hang  on  to  a  pen,  let  alone 
moving  it  straight.  I'd  like  to  let  the  old  woman 
know  about  how  I'm  a-doing  here ;  and  I  thought, 
when  Bill  in  the  stable  told  me  a  gentleman  from 
'The  Gazette'  was  here,  an'  knowing  that  writing 
is  in  your  line,  that  I'd  ask  you  to  do  it  for  me,  if 
you  had  the  time.  I  only  want  a  few  lines,  an* 


REDNER   WRITES  A   LETTER.  125 

I've  got  paper  an'  a  envelope  with  me."  As  he 
concluded,  he  reached  into  an  inside  pocket  of  his 
jacket  for  the  articles  in  question. 

While  the  man  was  speaking,  Redner  was  busy 
thinking;  and  by  the  time  he  had  finished,  if  not 
before,  he  saw  that  the  writing  of  this  letter  would 
be  followed  by  its  delivery  by  himself,  and  that  it 
was  more  than  likely  it  would  betaken  to  the  Bay- 
ard home.  He  told  the  man  to  go  with  him  to  his 
room,  and  he  would  write  the  letter.  Reaching 
there,  Mr.  Ting  gave  him  the  headings  of  the  sub- 
jects he  desired  treated;  but  as  there  was  not 
much  of  news  in  the  humdrum  life  he  was  lead- 
ing, and  as  everybody  about  him  was  a  stranger 
to  his  wife,  there  was  but  little  to  make  a  letter  of. 
He  gave  his  name  to  be  appended  thereto,  and  sat 
silently  by,  reverently  watching  the  movement  of 
the  pen,  until  the  letter  was  finished.  Then  he 
asked  Redner  if  he  would  take  charge  of  it  to  Gal- 
lowhill,  and  have  a  boy  leave  it  with  Mrs.  Bayard, 
where  his  wife  would  get  it.  Redner  promised  to 
attend  to  this ;  and  Mr.  Ting  took  his  departure, 
well  pleased  with  his  agreeable  amanuensis. 

The  next  evening  Redner  reached  Gallowhill, 
and  went  directly  to  the  home  of  the  Bayards  with 
the  letter.  Every  step  of  the  way  he  fervently 
prayed  that  Lucy  would  come  to  the  door.  So 
great  was  this  desire,  and  the  fear  she  would  not, 
that  he  was  all  of  a  tremor  on  ringing  the  bell.  An 
elderly  lady  answered  the  summons.  He  had  seen 
her  at  the  railway-station  when  the  wedding-party 


126  MR.  PHILLIPS'   GONENESS. 

went  off,  and  he  knew  she  was  the  mother  of  the 
girl  he  had  fondly  hoped  to  meet.  It  was  a  sore 
disappointment ;  but  there  was  nothing  to  do  but 
to  deliver  the  letter,  and  go  on  to  his  boarding- 
house. 

The  next  morning  Lucy  took  the  letter  to  Mrs. 
Ting's  house  to  read  it  to  her,  as  that  lady  was 
not  sufficiently  posted  in  the  various  lines  and 
curves  of  penmanship  to  catch  their  significance 
with  the  necessary  promptness. 

Mrs.  Ting  was  a  muscular  woman,  with  consid- 
erable flesh  on  her  frame,  and  a  powerful  wen  on 
the  very  end  of  her  nose,  somewhat  after  the  man- 
ner of  a  unicorn.  This  protuberance  tended  to 
give  her  face  a  more  decided  practical  cast  than 
the  features  themselves,  and  their  expression  was 
wholly  that  way.  It  was  a  red  face,  as  was  proper 
enough  from  twenty  years'  suspension  over  the 
steam  of  a  wash-tub ;  and  the  eyes  were  without 
any  particular  expression,  as  was  eminently  natu- 
ral in  a  washerwoman.  She  was  glad  to  see  Lucy. 

"An*  you've  got  a  letter  from  the  old  man 
too  ?  "  she  said.  "  Why,  how  did  you  get  it  ?  " 

Lucy  explained  that  it  had  been  left  at  the  house 
the  night  before. 

"  Why  !  "  she  ejaculated,  turning  the  envelope 
over  and  over,  and  examining  it  with  lively  curi- 
osity, "  it's  so  sing'lar  it  would  come  like  that.  I 
wonder  how  he's  getting  along.  The  last  time  he 
wrote,  he  said  the  rheumatism  was  iri  his  leg  agin." 
She  paused  as  she  related  this  circumstance,  and 


REDNER   WRITES  A  LETTER.  127 

looked  musingly  at  the  address.  "  Read  it  to  me, 
child,"  she  presently  added,  "an'  let's  see  what 
he's  got  to  say  for  himself." 

Lucy  took  the  letter,  and  opened  it.  As  she 
glanced  over  the  page,  there  was  not  in  her  mind 
the  faintest  suggestion  of  what  was  really  a  fact, 
—  that  this  letter  was  written  to  her,  that  every 
stroke  of  the  pen  was  followed  by  a  thought*  of  her, 
and  that  all  the  thoughts  combined  formed  them- 
selves into  a  picture  of  just  this  scene,  —  her  read- 
ing the  letter  to  Mrs.  Ting. 

Unconscious  Lucy  !     Unfortunate  Redner ! 

She  did  not  commence  at  once  the  reading  of 
the  letter,  but  glanced  at  the  top  of  the  page  with 
a  puzzled,  uncertain  expression.  Mrs.  Ting  sat 
opposite,  her  hands  on  her  knees,  her  sleeves 
rolled  up,  and  her  eyes  intently  fixed  on  Lucy. 

"  What's  the  matter,  child  ? "  she  asked.  "  Can't 
you  make  it  out  ? " 

"Oh,  yes!"  said  Lucy:  "I  can  read  it  easily 
enough  ;  but  I —  I  —  "  She  stopped,  and  flushed 
slightly,  and  glanced  nervously  over  the  top  of  the 
page  at  Mrs.  Ting. 

"  No  bad  news,  I  hope,"  said  that  lady. 

"Oh,  no!  I  think  not;  but  I  will  read  it  to 
you  :  — 

"'Stepford,  March  6,  1876.  My  dear,  precious 
wife,' "  — 

"What's  that?"  almost  screamed  the  wife. 

Lucy  looked  at  her  in  alarm.  Her  face  was 
almost  white,  and  her  eyes  appeared  to  be  starting 
from  their  sockets. 


128  AIR.  PHILLIPS'   GONENESS. 

"  Why,  Mrs.  Ting  !  what  is  the  matter  ? " 

"  Good  gracious  !  matter  enough,  I  should  think. 
Does  he  really  say  that  ?  Have  you  read  it  right  ? " 

"  Yes  :  that  is  just  the*  way  it  is." 

Mrs.  Ting  groaned. 

"  I  was  in  hopes  you  might  have  made  a  mis- 
take," she  said  despondently.  She  rubbed  her 
head,  and  looked  about  in  a  half-dazed  manner. 
"  I've  lived  twenty  years  with  Joe  Ting,  and  borne 
a  good  'eal,  but  never  nothing  like  this." 

"  Why  !  "  exclaimed  Lucy  in  surprise  :  "  I  don't 
see  any  thing  out  of  the  way  in  this." 

"  I  s'pose  not,"  answered  Mrs.  Ting  sadly ;  "  but 
you  are  young  yet,  child,  and  don't  see  into  things 
as  one  of  my  years  does.  When  Joe  Ting  said 
that,  he  was  drunk  or  crazy,  —  perhaps  both,"  she 
added,  gloomily. 

"  Please  don't  say  that,  Mrs.  Ting,"  pleaded 
Lucy. 

"  I  can't  help  it,  child.  It's  a  dreadful  thing  to 
be  sprung  on  me  in  my  time  of  life,  an'  worked  as 
I  have  done." 

Lucy  was  still  more  amazed. 

Mrs.  Ting  shook  her  head  slowly  and  dejectedly. 

"  To  have  him  goin'  aroun'  slingin'  such  bosh  at 
me  !  Ugh  !  I  never  gave  him  any  encouragement 
to  do  that.  I  have  always  been  a  woman  of  sense, 
if  I  do  say  it ;  an'  he'd  never  try  to  play  such 
soft  sawder  on  Martha  Ting  if  he  was  in  his  right 
mind.  He'd  never  do  it,  I»  can  tell  you.  But  he's 
got  off  there  among  a  lot  of  drunken  scalawags, 


REDNER   WRITES  A  LETTER.  129 

an*  they're  leadin'  him  off :  they're  leadin'  him  off. 
Mark  my  words,  Lucy :  they're  leadin'  him  off." 
The  unhappy  woman  took  up  her  apron,  and  wiped 
her  eyes.  "  But  go  on,  dear  :  I  can  bear  it.  Read 
the  rest :  I'll  get  the  strength  to  hold  up  under  it." 
The  distressed  girl,  scarcely  comprehending  the 
misery  of  her  companion,  renewed  the  reading :  — 

—  "  '  I  am  glad  of  this  opportunity  to  send  you 
a  few  lines.     My  work  is  not  so  hard  as  it  was  at 
first,  and  I  am  getting  better  acquainted  with  the 
people  about  me.     The  rheumatism  in  my  lower 
limb'"  — 

"Why  don't  the  old  fool  say  'leg'  ?"  interjected 
the  bereaved  wife. 

— " '  Is  getting  much  better,  and  scarcely 
troubles  me  at  all.  I  think  I  will  experience  no 
more  pain  from  it.  I  sent  you  forty  dollars  by  a 
postal  order  last  Wednesday,  and  I  hope  you  re- 
ceived it  safely.  I  wish  you  would  send  me  my 
flannel  undergarments  that  I  left  at  home.  Don't 
forget  it,  darling.'  "  — 

"Great  heavens  !"  gasped  the  horrified  listener 
as  this  endearing  term  struck  upon  her  ear. 

—  " '  I   shall  send  you  some  more  money  next 
week.      I  have  got  a  good  boarding-place,  much 
better  than  where  I  was  before ;  and  I  would  be 
very  happy  if  you  were  only  with  me,  dear  one.'  "  — 

"  Oh  !  "  groaned  Mrs.  Ting. 

— " '  I  miss  you  more  than  I  can  tell,  my 
own.'"  — 

"Lucy!"  suddenly  demanded  Mrs.  Ting,  "are 
those  words  in  that  letter  ? "  She  spoke  sternly. 


130  MR.   PHILLIPS'   GONENESS. 

"Certainly  they  are,"  answered  Lucy,  looking 
up  in  surprise. 

"  He  was  drunk,  then,  when  they  was  put  on  that 
paper.  Mark  my  words,  Lucy  Bayard :  that  man 
was  drunker  than  the  drunkennest ;  and  may 
Heaven  save  you  from  the  shame  that  has  come 
upon  me  this  day !  But  go  on  :  I  can  stand  it. 
I'm  strong :  I  sha'n't  back  down."  She  closed 
her  lips  tight  together,  and  squared  herself  in  a 
chair,  as  if  preparing  for  a  galvanic  shock. 

With  a  sorely  troubled  heart,  the  young  girl 
returned  to  the  letter  :  — 

—  " '  But  in  a  few  weeks  I  will  be  with  you  again. 
Don't  grieve  over  my  absence.'  "  — 

"  Oh  ! "  shot  from  the  compressed  lips. 

—  "  '  The  time  will  soon  pass.    I  count  the  days 
impatiently.'  "  — 

"  Drunk  !  "  ejaculated  the  listener. 

With  a  trembling  voice,  Lucy  continued,  — 

—  "  '  But  soon  they  will  be  gone  ;  and  then  I  will 
come  to  you,  and  take  you  in  my  arms,  and  kiss  you 
again  and  again,  my  blessed  wife/  "  — 

"  Drunk  as  a  fiddler ! "  groaned  the  wretched 
woman. 

— "  '  Affectionately,  your  loving  husband,  Jo- 
seph.' " 

"  Is  that  all  of  it  ? "  demanded  Mrs.  Ting,  trying 
to  master  her  grief  and  anger  and  shame. 

"Yes  :  that  is  all." 

She  rose  from  her  chair,  took  the  letter  into  her 
own  hands,  and  at  once  threw  it  into  the  stove. 


REDNER   WRITES  A  LETTER.  131 

"O  Mrs.  Ting!"  cried  Lucy,  "how  could  you 
do  that?  It  was  from  your  husband,  and  I  do 
not  see  why  you  feel  so  about  it." 

"Child,"  said  the  unhappy  wife,  softening  in 
her  anger  as  she  looked  into  the  distressed  face  of 
the  lovely  girl,  "you  are  young  now,  as  I  said 
afore,  an'  don't  understand ;  but  when  you  are 
married  twenty  years,  an'  your  man  calls  you  his 
darling  (ugh !)  an'  such  rubbish  as  that,  you  can 
mark  it  down  at  once  that  he  is  drunk  or  crazy. 
No  man  in  his  sober  senses  would  go  to  dom'  it. 
It  ain't  nateral ;  it  ain't  human.  Joe  Ting  was 
drunk  when  that  letter  was  writ,  —  drunker  than- 
a  fiddler,  or  he  wouldn't  a  slobbered  around  like 
that.  What  he  wants  is  to  be  laid  over  a  barrel, 
an'  pounded  with  a  fence-rail  till  all  that  bosh  an' 
bad  rum  is  pounded  out  of  him.  That's  what  he 
wants ;  an'  I  hope  to  Heaven  some  one  will  get 
hold  of  him,  an'  do  it  before  he  shows  his  face  in 
this  house."  She  went  back  to  her  work,  her  lips 
tight  shut,  and  her  brow  darkened. 

Poor  Lucy  looked  after  her  for  a  moment,  sorely 
puzzled  by  it  all ;  but,  seeing  she  did  not  unbend 
from  her  frigidity,  she  returned  silently  to  her  home. 

Unfortunate  Redner !  Happily  he  did  not  know 
how  had  been  received  the  sentiments  which  had 
sprung  spontaneously  from  the  inner  temple  of  his 
heart. 

But  it  is  more  than  likely,  that,  when  Mr.  Ting 
has  occasion  to  have  another  letter  written  home, 
he  will  insist  upon  its  contents  being  carefully 
read  to  him  before  sending  it. 


132  MR.   rHILLIPy   GONENESS. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

IN   THE    NEW    HOME. 

THE  train  bearing  the  young  married  couple 
back  from  the  tour  reached  Gallowhill  Saturday 
evening.  It  was  Anna's  desire  to  return  then, 
because  the  next  day  was  Sunday ;  and  her  first 
appearance  at  home  as  a  bride  would  be  in  her 
best  attire,  and  before  a  much  larger  number  of 
her  town-people  than  would  be  possible  on  any 
other  day.  She  had  often  pictured  herself  sweep- 
ing into  church  as  a  wife  on  the  "  first  Sunday," 
the  observed  of  all  observers.  It  had  been  a 
dream  with  her  long  before  she  knew  Tom  Griggs, 
to  be  deepened  and  intensified  after  she  became 
his  pledged  wife.  Anna's  wedding-silk  was  to  be 
worn  in  Gallowhill  for  the  first  time  that  Sunday. 
It  was  an  ashes-of-roses,  exquisitely  trimmed,  and 
an  admirable  fit.  Anna  contemplated  it  with  par- 
donable pride ;  Tom,  with  rapture. 

They  were  going  to  begin  housekeeping  at  once. 
The  new  home  was  a  small  structure,  rented  a 
few  days  before  the  wedding.  The  carpets  and 
furniture  had  already  been  ordered,  and  during 
their  absence  the  mother  and  Lucy  had  seen  the 


IN  THE  NEW  HOME.  133 

new  place  put  fully  to  rights,  and  now  it  was 
ready  to  receive  them ;  but  Mrs.  Bayard  believed 
it  best,  as  it  was  night  when  they  came,  that  they 
should  go  to  her  house  for  tea,  and  then  to  their 
own  roof.  This  Anna  would  not  listen  to.  She 
and  Tom  had  provided  every  thing  necessary  for 
an  immediate  occupation,  and  the  first  tea  in  the 
new  home  had  been  the  one  bright  picture  before 
them  all  the  time  of  their  absence.  They  could 
not  give  it  up  now. 

So  they  were  driven  directly  to  their  own  house; 
and,  there  being  a  good  fire  in  the  kitchen-stove, 
the  work  of  preparing  tea  by  the  deft  fingers  of 
Mrs.  Bayard  required  but  a  few  moments.  Long 
before  Anna  had  looked  at  the  things  Lucy  at- 
tempted to  show  her,  the  table  was  spread,  and 
the  tea  ready. 

Of  course  Anna  took  the  head  of  the  table, 
and  presided ;  and  in  doing  it  she  made  a  most 
charming  picture.  Her  beautiful  face  was  flushed 
by  the  excitement,  the  glad  anticipation,  the  nov- 
elty of  the  scene;  and  her  eyes  shone  with  the 
delight  that  was  in  her  heart.  There  was  just  a 
trifling  tremor  in  the  hand  that  directed  the  tea- 
urn,  and  a  nervousness  in  the  anxiety  to  see  that 
all  were  helped.  But  she  was  so  proud,  so  happy. 
The  joy  that  filled  her  life  was  manifest  in  every 
move,  every  word,  every  glance;  and,  whenever 
she  turned  her  shining  eyes  upon  her  delighted 
husband,  that  individual  would  immediately  jump 
up  from  his  place,  and  go  around  to  her,  and  take 


134  MR.  PHILLIPS'   GONENESS. 

the  beautiful  face  right  up  to  his  own,  when  it 
would  for  a  moment  be  lost  to  the  view  of  the 
others. 

And  so,  with  the  kisses  and  the  laughter,  and 
her  wanting  to  know  what  he  thought  of  the 
dishes  and  the  cutlery  and  the  napkins,  and  this 
and  that  (although  he  had  seen  them  all  as  much 
as  she  had),  the  tea  was  prolonged  for  a  full  hour. 
But  it  was  such  a  delicious  hour  that  no  one 
minded  the  flight  of  time,  and  all  were  astonished 
when  they  looked  up  at  the  clock,  and  saw  how 
long  they  had  been  sitting  there. 

The  mother  said  that  she  and  Lucy  would  clear 
off  the  table,  and  wash  the  dishes ;  but  the  young 
wife  would  not  listen  to  that.  She  was  such  a 
wilful  young  wife,  and  was  so  determined  to  take 
charge  of  every  thing,  that  the  mother  and  Lucy 
gave  up  to  her.-  Dear  girl !  she  could  not  bear  to 
surrender  an  atom  of  her  prerogative;  but  she 
wanted  with  her  own  hands  to  do  it  all.  Tom 
opposed,  because  he  knew  she  was  tired  from  the 
journey;  but  when  she  had  pinned  on  the  pretty 
bib-apron  Lucy's  forethought  had  provided  for 
her,  and  pushed  up  her  sleeves,  she  looked  so 
bewitchingly  cosey  and  home-like  that  he  gave  up 
all  opposition  at  once,  and  was  only  too  glad  of 
the  opportunity  for  seeing  her  thus  attired.  Cer- 
tainly his  precious  wife  never  appeared  more  dear 
to  him  than  she  did  at  this  moment ;  and  he  could 
not  resist  catching  her  in  his  strong  arms,  and  giv- 
ing her  one  of  his  anaconda  embraces. 


IN  THE  NEW  HOME.  135 

"  O  Tom  !  "  she  laughingly  cried,  as  she  re- 
leased herself,  "what  a  sad  plight  you  have  got 
my  new  apron  in  !  Lucy  will  be  real  mad  at  you 
for  mussing  her  work." 

But  Lucy  promptly  repudiated  such  a  senti- 
ment, whereupon  Tom  felt  warranted  in  taking 
another  risk,  and  did  so,  greatly  to  the  distress  of 
the  apron. 

"  Now,  Lucy,"  she  said,  drawing  her  face  down 
into  a  very  demure  compass,  "you  can  help  me  by 
drying  the  dishes  while  I  wash  them,  and  Tom  can 
entertain  mother,  and  she  can  entertain  him ;  and 
thus  both  will  be  kept  out  of  mischief  while  we 
do  the  work.  Now,  Tom,"  she  added,  looking 
very  gravely  at  him,  and  holding  up  a  very  pretty 
hand  to  enforce  his  attention,  "you  keep  right 
there  by  mother,  and  don't  you  dare  stir  one 
step." 

Having  thus  provided  for  him,  she  set  to  work 
with  Lucy  to  clear  the  table.  It  must  have  been 
a  remarkable  dish-closet  (although,  to  an  ordinary 
mind,  there  was  apparently  nothing  extraordinary 
about  it) ;  for,  upon  the  storing  away  of  every  piece 
therein,  she  would  impulsively  exclaim,  — 

"  O  Tom  !  do  come  and  look  at  this  !  "  And  he 
would  straightway  go  and  look,  and  immediately 
thereafter  there  would  come  from  the  door  a  half- 
smothered  voice  in  vehement  protestation  :  "  Ooh- 
ooh-ooh !  Oh  my,  you  have  just  taken  my  breath ! 
Go  away,  you  great  bear !  and  don't  come  near  me 
again  to-night." 


*36  MR.   PHILLIPS'   GONENESS. 

Of  course  he  would  go  away ;  and  of  course 
he  was  almost  immediately  called  again,  when  the 
same  performance,  with  scarcely  any  variation, 
would  be  repeated.  Then  the  dishes  were  to  be 
washed  ;  and  during  this  operation  the  young  wife 
was  as  circumspect  and  dignified  as  a  housekeeper 
of  twenty  years'- standing.  It  was  delightful  to 
watch  her  movements,  — at  least  Tom  found  it  so  : 
for  he  did  not  take  his  eyes  from  her  a  single 
moment;  and,  when  she  gave  him  a  glance,  it  was 
so  full  of  solemnity,  that  the  happy  fellow  would 
laugh  outright. 

After  the  dishes  were  put  away,  Mrs.  Bayard 
showed  Tom  the  location  of  the  coal-bin  in  the 
cellar,  and  Anna  went  down,  too,  to  see  where  the 
vegetables  were  stored ;  and,  when  she  saw  how 
nicely  every  thing  had  been  arranged,  she  just 
clapped  her  hands  like  a  pleased  child,  —  a  mani- 
festation which  was  immediately  taken  by  her 
ever-watchful  husband  as  an  invitation  for  his 
attention,  and  the  next  instant  she  was  struggling 
in  his  enthusiastic  arms. 

She  really  enjoyed  seeing  him  shovel  the  scuttle 
full  of  coal.  It  was- the  first  time  he  had  done  such 
work  in  years.  But  he  did  it  well,  and  mounted 
the  stairs  with  his  burden  with  all  the  decorum  of 
a  full-fledged  benedict,  greatly  to  the  amusement 
of  Anna,  and  even  to  the  relaxation  of  the  grave 
face  of  Lucy. 

When  upstairs  again,  Mrs.  Bayard  gave  Anna 
some  advice  in  the  matter  of  preparing  breakfast ; 


IN  THE  NEW  HOME.  137 

and,  it  then  being  late,  she  and  Lucy  took  their 
departure.  Anna  dearly  loved  her  mother  and 
sister;  but  she  was  glad  when  they  were  gone. 
She  wanted  to  be  alone  with  her  husband,  to  go 
with  him  through  all  their  rooms,  to  talk  with  him 
of  the  joy  in  their  lives.  And  so  she  and  Tom 
went  through  the  house  together. 

It  was  not  much  of  a  journey ;  for  the  twain 
were  in  humble  circumstances :  but  every  step  of 
the  way  was  a  sweet  sensation  ;  and,  better  than 
all,  what  they  had  was  so  all-sufficient,  that  not.  a 
thought  came  into  their  minds  of  how  much  better 
and  how  much  more  extensive  their  goods  would 
have  been  had  there  been  more  money  in  the 
purchase. 

And,  when  they  came  back  to  the  sitting-room, 
he  drew  the  easy-chair  to  the  fire ;  and  she  sat  on 
his  knee,  and  put  her  arms  about  his  neck,  and 
laid  her  face  close  to  his,  and  softly  cried. 

He  did  not  say  any  thing  to  her.  He  knew  that 
she  was  too  happy  to  find  expression  in  any  other 
way  but  this  :  so  he  drew  her  a  trifle  closer  in  his 
arms,  and  kept  silent,  while  her  tears  flowed 
freely. 

By  and  by  the  intensity  of  her  feelings  became 
subdued,  and  the  tears  grew  less  and  less ;  but  she 
did  not  speak.  She  did  not  care  to  speak.  All 
she  cared  was  to  lie  there  close  to  him,  and  feel 
his  arms  about  her,  and  his  face  against  her  own. 
Every  dream  of  her  loving  nature,  every  picture 
of  her  bright  fancy,  was  realized  in  full;  and  the 


138  MR.  PHILLIPS*   GONENESS. 

joy  that  filled  her  life  found  its  truest  expression 
in  her  silent  tears. 

And  thus  these  two,  strong  in  their  love,  happy 
in  the  present,  and  full  of  precious  trust  in  the 
future,  rested  together  in  their  new  home  in  per- 
fect peace. 


MR.  PHILLIPS  DISTINGUISHES  HIMSELF.     139 


CHAPTER   XV. 

MR.    PHILLIPS    DISTINGUISHES    HIMSELF. 

THE  week  following  the  return  of  Tom  and 
Anna,  they  joined  a  skating-party.  It  was  well 
on  in  the  month  of  February,  and  the  skating 
would  soon  be  over :  so  it  was  arranged  to  have 
the  party  then.  It  was  a  delightful  night,  and  the 
ice  was  in  fair  condition.  The  party  were  young, 
full  of  animal  spirits,  and  comparatively  free  from 
care ;  and  thus  every  thing  was  favorable  to  a 
season  of  enjoyment.  Among  the  number  was 
Mr.  Phillips,  who  had  not  been  on  skates  for  some 
time,  but  who  modestly  admitted,  that,  when  a 
boy,  he  "  could  skate  the  legs  off  of  Jupiter,"  — 
a  performance  whose  detail  he  did  not  explain,  but 
which  must  have  required,  as  was  readily  inferred, 
no  small  amount  of  skill.  Mr.  Phillips,  on  this 
occasion,  escorted  a  dressmaker,  who  occupied  a 
room  nearly  opposite  his  boarding-place.  Having 
been  three  days  in  the  employ  of  Mrs.  Quimby, 
she  had  been  brought  under  his  immediate  notice ; 
and,  with  that  gallantry  which  characterized  him, 
he  had  paid  her  the  high  compliment  of  bestowing 
the  full  treasure  of  his  heart  upon  her. 


140  MR.  PHILLIPS*   GONENESS. 

The  ice  was  reached  in  safety.  It  was  in  a 
basin,  fringed  about  the  shores  with  pines  and 
hemlocks,  like  sombre  hackmen  waiting  for  an 
audience  to  disperse.  The  ice  lay  in  a  glittering 
sheet  under  the  beams  of  the  moon.  A  dozen  or 
more  of  young  people  were  flying  over  the  surface, 
with  occasionally  one  here  and  there  abruptly 
sitting  down  upon  it. 

Mr.  Phillips,  with  his  usual  forethought,  ripped 
a  board  from  a  fence  near  at  hand  for  the  ladies 
to  sit  upon  while  having  their  skates  adjusted. 
Tom  held  his  darling  in  his  lap,  and  put  on  her 
skates  very  much  as  he  would  pull  on  a  pair  of 
boots.  When  the  happy  girl  saw  all  the  other 
heads  down,  she  would  bring  her  pretty  lips  sud- 
denly against  his.  She  was  very  happy. 

In  the  mean  time  Mr.  Phillips  was  distinguishing 
himself  in  his  own  peculiar  way.  The  legs  of 
Jupiter  which  he  had  once  been  able  to  skate 
completely  off  grew  so  colossal  by  the  time  he 
reached  the  ice,  that  he  began  to  doubt  very  seri- 
ously if  he  had  ever  been  able  to  affect  them  at 
all,  let  alone  disposing  of  them  entirely.  The 
dressmaker,  whose  name  was  Miss  Blivens,  was  in 
a  state  of  great  excitement.  She  was  a  novice  on 
skates,  and  was  very  much  afraid  she  would  fall, 
and  hurt  herself.  She  gave  expression  to  this 
belief  about  forty  times  while  the  gallant  Ezekiah 
was  adjusting  her  skates.  It  was  not  so  often, 
however,  that  he  failed  a  single  time  to  respond  in 
a  tenderly  assuring  manner  that  there  was  not  the 


MR.  PHILLIPS  DISTINGUISHES  HIMSELF.     141 

faintest  danger  of  her  falling— with  him  at  her 
side.  He  was  even  grieved  that  she  should  enter- 
tain such  a  fear.  Club-skates,  with  screw  and 
clamp  fastening,  were  a  novel  feature  in  that  line 
to  him.  The  last  skating  he  had  done  was  with 
the  strap  article.  He  saw  that  the  club  skate  was 
a  more  convenient  article,  and  he  could  not  help 
deducing  therefrom  that  it  was  a  much  better 
article  to  get  around  on. 

With  Miss  Blivens  provided  for,  Mr.  Phillips 
proceeded  to  put  on  his  own  skates ;  and,  this 
done,  he  got  up,  and  helped  her  up.  Mr.  Phillips 
anticipated  an  abundance  of  bliss  from  this  night's 
venture.  He  saw,  with  that  keenness  of  percep- 
tion peculiarly  developed  in  him,  that  she  was  a 
superior  being, — one  to  love,  to  admire,  to  lean 
upon  in  the  hour  of  adversity ;  and  his  whole  heart 
went  out  to  her  in  a  spontaneous  burst.  Looking 
into  her  face,  he  could  not  understand  how  it  was 
that  he  ever  should  think  he  loved  anyone  else.  It 
was  odd.  And  now  he  was  to  skim  over  the  glit- 
tering ice  with  her  for  hours. 

They  made  a  delightful  picture  as  he  helped  her 
up  to  her  feet.  He  held  both  of  her  hands  for 
that  purpose,  while  his  feet  wobbled  on  the  skates 
in  a  manner  that  looked  very  much  as  if  he  did 
not  have  perfect  control  over  them.  There  "was  a 
smile  on  his  face  ;  but  the  look  of  intense  anxiety 
that  lay  over  it  robbed  it  of  all  significance.  Miss 
Blivens  had  to  sit  down  again  while  he  tightened 
his  skates.  This  done,  she  was  helped  up  once 


142  MR.  PHILLIPS1   GONENESS. 

more,  and  he  proceeded  to  feel  his  way  out  on  the 
pond  with  her.  It  was  very  new,  and  very  excit- 
ing; and  withal  very  delightful  to  Miss  Blivens. 
She  clung  tightly  to  his  hand  with  one  of  hers, 
and  with  the  other  she  hung  desperately  to  his 
sleeve.  It  was  delightful  to  him  to  have  her  thus 
cling,  and  to  hear  her  little  nervous  exclamations, 
"  O  Mr.  Phillips  !  don't  let  me  fall." 

Let  her  fall !  He  might  permit  the  eternal  hills 
to  fall,  or  even  stand  impassively  by  while  the 
whole  universe  went  over  in  a  disastrous  heap. 
But  she !  never ! 

Still,  with  this  beautiful  sentiment  thrilling  his 
breast,  there  was  a  vague  sense  of  uneasiness 
back  of  all.  He  kept  on  his  feet,  but  the  skates 
acted  curiously.  He  simply  wobbled  along;  and 
the  movement  was  not  only  ungraceful,  but  it 
threatened  to  wrench  him  apart  at  the  hips. 
Besides,  there  was  a  lively  sensation  of  going  over 
backwards,  to  resist  which  strained  every  nerve. 

She  was  very  timid,  and  very  fearful  of  falling; 
but  he  spoke  soothingly. 

"There  is  no  danger,  Miss  Blivens, — none  in 
the  least.  Just  keep  up  straight,  and  hang  on  to 
me,  and  I'll  keep  you  up." 

"  I  know,  Mr.  Phillips ;  but  then,  you  see,  I've 
never  been  much  on  skates,  and  I  feel  so  fright- 
ened. But  you  have  had  so  much  experience,  that 
you  forget  how  a  new  beginner  feels." 

"  Well,  that's  so.  There's  something  in  that," 
said  Mr.  Phillips,  straightening  himself  proudly. 


MR.  PHILLIPS  DISTINGUISHES  HIMSELF.     143 

t, 

There  was  a  great  deal  in  it.  It  was  the  most 
graceful  tribute  a  woman  can  pay  to  a  man.  Her 
sharp  eyes  had  detected  at  once  his  perfect  control 
of  himself  on  the  ice.  Mr.  Phillips  was  highly 
gratified. 

"  Oh !  you'll  make  a  splendid  stater  yet,  Miss 
Blivens,"  he  cheerfully  assured  her.  "You've  got 
it  in  you,  I  know.  It's  nothing  when  you  get 
used  to  it.  All  you've  got  to  do  is  to  do  just  as 
you  see  me  do.  You  see,  in  the  first  place,  you 
want  confidence.  You  don't  want  to  think  of 
falling  at  all.  You  want  to  believe  you  are  going 
to  do  it,  and  then  you'll  be  sure  to  do  it."  Mr. 
Phillips  smiled  blandly  over  the  safe  deliverance 
of  this  information. 

"Is  that  the  way,  Mr.  Phillips?"  she  tremu- 
lously asked,  clinging  to  him  so  helplessly  that  he 
was  thrilled  to  the  very  marrow. 

"  That's  the  very  way,  my  —  ahem  !  "  He  was 
going  to  say  "  dear,"  but  rescued  himself  from  the 
temerity  by  a  mighty  spasm,  and  blushingly  substi- 
tuted "friend." 

However,  he  compensated  himself  for  the  loss 
by  bestowing  on  the  top  of  her  head,  which  was 
directly  under  the  protecting  range  of  his  nose,  a 
glance  of  infinite  tenderness. 

They  wobbled  along  a  few  steps  farther. 

"Are  you  enjoying  it,  Miss  Blivens?"  he 
thoughtfully  inquired. 

"Very  much,  Mr.  Phillips,"  she  was  good 
enough  to  say. 


144  MR.   PHILLIPS'   GONENESS. 

"  It  is  so  exhilarating,"  he  rejoined.  They  were 
moving  ahead  at  the  somewhat  startling* speed  of 
a  mile  an  hour.  "  There's  nothing  like  it  to  start 
up  the  blood.  It  makes  one  feel  like  a  new  per- 
son. When,  I'm  on  the  ice  like  this,  and  the 
moonlight  is  falling,  and  the  cries  of  the  other 
skaters  fill  the  air,  and  I'm  skimming  over  — 
Ooh  !  ah  !  Take  care  !  Great  Judas  ! " 

The  awful  suddenness  with  which  Mr.  Phillips' 
legs  flew  out  from  under  him  wrenched  this  ex- 
clamation from  his  pallid  lips  in  a  half-scream. 
It  was  so  incomprehensibly  sudden,  there  was 
no  time  to  catch  hold  of  any  thing,  or  to  think. 
In  a  flash  he  was  on  his  back,  striking  the  ice  with 
a  force  that  knocked  the  breath  clean  out  of  his 
body,  and  dragging  the  unfortunate  Miss  Blivens 
over  with  him  in  a  confused  whirl  of  elaborate 
dress-goods.  Fortunately,  in  her  descent,  one  of 
her  skate-heels  rasped  him  back  of  the  ear,  and 
the  shock  restored  him  to  consciousness.  At  the 
same  time  a  skater  was  passing  near  at  hand;  and 
by  his  timely  aid  Miss  Blivens  was  lifted  to  her 
feet,  and  sustained  until  Mr.  Phillips  could  perform 
the  same  office  for  himself.  Then  he  clasped  her 
hand,  and  she  again  clung  to  his  sleeve.  But  it 
was  almost  a  mechanical  motion  on  his  part.  Mr. 
Phillips  was  very  much  subdued. 

"  O  Mr.  Phillips  !  how  did  it  happen  ? "  gasped 
Miss  Blivens,  very  much  shaken  up  herself  by  the 
dreadful  suddenness  of  the  affair,  and  somewhat 
troubled  by  suspicions  of  her  appearance  in  the 
descent. 


MR.  PHILLIPS  DISTINGUISHES  HIMSELF.     145 

Mr.  Phillips  was  not  quite  positive  as  to  the 
cause  of  the  mishap ;  but  he  had  an  impression 
that  some  unprincipled  person  had  dropped  grease 
on  the  ice,  and  even  spoke  sternly  of  a  nature  that 
would  be  guilty  of  such  an  act. 

The  conversation  was  not  resumed  where  it  was 
broken  off  by  the  accident.  For  the  present,  Mr. 
Phillips'  thoughts'  were  bent  on  the  ice,  for  which 
he  was  beginning  to  cherish  a  feeling  of  profound 
awe.  It  was  well  he  was  thus  occupied ;  as,  other- 
wise, the  wobbling  motion  he  was  obliged  to  make, 
and  the  helplessness  of  his  lady,  might  have  even- 
tually become  a  tiresome  performance.  For  a  few 
minutes  they  squirmed  over  the  ice  in  unbroken 
silence.  Near  them  was  a  small  island  of  bogs, 
with  high  tufts  of  grass  springing  therefrom.  It 
was  free  of  snow.  Mr.  Phillips,  perceiving  this, 
steered  their  course  in  its  direction.  The  moment 
he  saw  the  little  island,  he  evolved  a  plan  for 
immediate  action. 

He  felt  that  the  woman  who  was  clinging  so 
convulsively  to  him,  and  threatening  every  mo- 
ment to  throw  him  over  on  his  head  again,  was 
one  designed  to  make  his  life  happy,  and  without 
whom  it  would  be  useless  to  attempt  to  live. 
Thoroughly  convinced  of  this,  it  was  natural  that 
he  should  seek  to  learn  if  she  felt  correspondingly 
toward  him.  He  could  not  do  this  as  they  were ; 
for  a  sudden  slip  might  not  only  jeopardize  his 
suit,  but  his  limbs  or  skull  as  well.  He  thought  it 
best  to  secure  her  by  a  seat  on  one  of  the  bogs, 


146  MR.  PHILLIPS'   GONENESS. 

and  thus  unhampered  he  would  skim  around  on 
the  ice  to  show  her  his  skill ;  and,  having  warmed 
her  up  to  a  high  pitch  of  enthusiasm,  he  would 
take  a  seat  by  her  side,  hold  her  hand  with  a  gentle 
pressure,  and  pour  into  her  ear  the  story  of  his 
great  love.  This  was  what  Mr.  Phillips  denomi- 
nated "striking  the  iron  while  it  was  hot." 

Getting  her  seated  was  a  matter  of  great  diffi- 
culty, owing  to  the  perverse  nature  of  the  ice  and 
their  skates ;  but  he  finally  succeeded  in  perform- 
ing it,  although  not  in  a  very  graceful  manner. 
Miss  Blivens  was  glad  indeed  to  sit  down,  after  the 
strain  she  had  been  subjected  to  in  keeping  her  feet. 

Mr.  Phillips  now  set  abo'ut  to  show  her  what  he 
could  clo  on  skates. 

The  first  shove  out  of  his  foot  warned  him  that 
he  must  use  more  caution,  or  he  would  skate  him- 
self apart.  He  was  surprised  to  see  how  readily 
his  foot  moved  when  it  started.  It  was  only  by  a 
powerful  wrench  that  he  succeeded  in  recovering 
it,  m  and  saving  himself  from  going  over.  The 
shock  sobered  him.  With  much  greater  care  he 
began  again,  but  it  was  difficult  work.  _  He  found 
that  it  required  considerable  effort  to  maintain  a 
perpendicular,  and  it  was  only  by  short  strokes 
that  he  was  able  to  keep  up.  This  undoubtedly 
came  from  lack  of  practice.  He  moved  around  in 
this  way  for  about  five  minutes,  to  use  himself  to 
the  motion,  and  then  he  grew  a  trifle  more  venture- 
some. He  saw,  that,  as  long  as  he  kept  his  feet 
going,  he  was  all  right.  He  presently  detected, 


MR    PHILLIPS  DISTINGUISHES  HIMSELF.     147 

also,  that  it  was  much  easier  to  keep  them  going 
than  it  was  to  make  them  stop.  He  discovered 
this  after  twice  wrenching  his  back  so  seriously  as 
to  fill  him  with  dire  alarm  about  the  ultimate  safety 
of  his  spine.  He  noticed,  too,  that  turning  around 
seemed  to  require  almost  as  much  management  as 
the  manoeuvring  of  forty  thousand  troops  in  the 
presence  of  a  vindictive  enemy. 

He  had  got  away  some  little  distance  from  the 
anxious  lady  watching  him,  when  he  determined 
he  would  bear  down  upon  her  with  full  speed,  just 
to  show  her  how  he  could  do  it,  and  then  take  a 
seat  at  her  side,  and  learn  his  fate.  He  felt  that 
success  in  his  suit  depended  in  a  measure  on  the 
way  he  acquitted  himself,  —  the  impression  he 
made  on  the  very  eve  of  his  proposal.  It  was  a 
critical  stage  in  his  life,  and  he  appreciated  it 
keenly.  He  wanted  to  sail  up  to  her  erect  and 
graceful,  and  to  that  purpose  he  now  concentrated 
every  thought  and  muscle.  Getting  himself  faced 
about  by  a  sort  of  jig  motion  (entirely  beyond  his 
control),  so  as  to  face  her  direction,  he  slapped  his 
treacherous  stomach  with  the  injunction  to  "brace 
up,"  and  started. 

He  put  every  muscle  and  nerve  into  play ;  and, 
while  his  plunges  were  somewhat  spasmodic,  still 
he  made  excellent  speed.  When  he  got  within  ten 
yards  of  her,  he  brought  both  feet  together,  straight- 
ened his  body,  folded  his  arms  across  his  chest, 
and  sailed  forward  in  pleasing  style.  At  five  yards 
of  her  a  bright  thought  struck  him.  He  would 


148  MR.  PHILLIPS'   GONENESS. 

spread  out  his  feet,  and  then  whirl  suddenly  around, 
thereby  cutting  the  well-known  and  exceedingly 
pretty  design  called  the  "  spread  eagle."  He  had 
done  it  a  thousand  times  when  a  boy,  and  remem- 
bered just  how  to  make  it.  With  this  view,  he 
cried  to  her,  "See  here,  Miss  Blivens!"  And 
then  he  spread  his  feet. 

The  instant  he  did  so  he  saw  the  dreadful  mis- 
take he  had  committed.  His  feet  passed  immedi- 
ately beyond  his  control,  and  went  apart  so  far  as 
to  threaten  to  split  his  body  in  twain.  He  made 
a  desperate  clutch  to  recover  them,  caught  one, 
made  a  grab  for  the  other,  threw  out  both  arms 
wildly  for  support,  quivered  for  just  one  instant  in 
the  air,  and  then  went  down  on  the  back  of  his 
head  with  awful  velocity,  and  with  an  expression 
on  his  face  that  defies  all  description. 

Miss  Blivens  screamed  outright. 

The  force  of  the  blow  caused  a  million  lights 
to  dance  before  his  eyes.  Then  there  was  a  mo- 
ment of  darkness,  and  Mr.  Phillips  came  back  to 
this  life  to  discover  that  he  was  sitting  on  the  ice, 
and  that  Tom  Griggs  was  putting  on  his  hat.  He 
made  no  answer  to  the  inquiry  if  he  was  hurt.  As 
every  nerve  in  his  body  was  testifying  most  elo- 
quently to  the  general  wreck  of  his  structure,  he 
perhaps  thought  any  testimony  from  his  lips  would 
be  superfluous.  There  was  a  terrible  ringing  in 
his  head  that  tended  to  confuse  his  ideas  of  what 
had  taken  place.  He  sat  there,  and  stared  vacantly 
ahead  of  him,  the  awful  solemnity  of  his  features 
being  beyond  all  description. 


MR.  PHILLIPS  DISTINGUISHES  HIMSELF.     149 

His  eyes  fell  upon  the  skates  on  his  feet.  A 
tremor  convulsed  his  frame. 

"  Take  off  those  devilish  things,"  he  said. 

The  request  was  complied  with,  and  he  was  then 
assisted  to  his  feet. 

His  lower  limbs  felt  as  if  they  had  been  wrenched 
from  their  sockets,  and  put  back  wrong ;  his  spine 
was  a  solid  mass  of  ache  from  its  base  to  his  neck ; 
his  coat  was  split  the  full  length  of  its  back ;  and 
his  head  was  full  of  ringing  noises,  as  if  its  con- 
tents had  hardened  into  metallic  substances,  be- 
came detached,  and  were  rattling  around  loose. 
So  strong  was  this  latter  impression,  that  he  re- 
fused to  move  his  head,  for  fear  of  mixing  the 
particles  in  irretrievable  confusion. 

He  did  not  take  a  seat  by  the  side  of  Miss 
Blivens,  and  pour  into  her  ear  the  story  of  his  pas- 
sionate love.  He  did  not  even  look  for  her,  or 
ask  after  her.  It  was  most  extraordinary,  but  he 
really  hoped  he  would  never  see  or  hear  of  her 
again.  A  complete  revulsion  of  feeling  had  set  in. 
He  was  convinced  that  she  was  the  sole  cause  of 
his  mishap.  If  he  had  never  seen  her,  he  would 
not  have  been  in  this  plight.  As  it  was,  he  was 
undoubtedly  battered  beyond  all  hope  of  repair, 
and  would  forever  after  carry  through  life  a 
patched-up  and  very  much  dilapidated  carcass. 
He  felt  so  intensely  on  this  point,  that  when  Anna 
innocently  observed,  "  Poor  Miss  Blivens !  she  was 
terribly  frightened,"  he  savagely  muttered, — 

"  Dammer ! " 


MR.  PHILLIPS'   GONENESS. 


CHAPTER   XVI. 

IN  WHICH  ONE  OF  THE  CHARACTERS  FADES  AWAY. 

THE  new  journeyman  from  Boston  did  not  wear 
well  in  the  office  of  "The  Gazette."  He  was  too 
slow  at  the  case  to  suit  Mr.  Phillips  in  times  of 
emergency,  when  what  type  was  not  set  by  the 
force  had  to  be  made  up  by  himself.  We  all  can 
understand  this  feeling.  He  was  too  imperfect  in 
his  work  first,  and  in  his  proof-correcting  next,  to 
please  Tom  Griggs.  He  was  guilty  of  the  most 
absurd  errors  in  type,  which  were  frequently  per- 
petuated in  the  paper  through  his  carelessness  in 
dealing  with  the  proofs.  His  deficiency  in  the 
art  preservative  caused  Hazelton  to  look  upon  him 
with  an  unfriendly  eye ;  while  his  long  hair,  cloak, 
and  disinclination  to  go  on  sprees,  were  deemed  by 
Goodwin  and  "  Lippy  "  sufficient  ground  for  their 
dislike. 

Redner  was  aware  he  was  not  congenial  to  the 
human  particles  of  the  office  ;  but  he  understood 
that  it  was  because  he  was  on  a  plane  infinitely 
above  them,  and  he  punished  their  action  by  keep- 
ing more  to  himself.  In  this  isolation  it  was  natu- 
ral he  should  seek  for  sympathy.  One  of  his 


ONE  OF  THE  CHARACTERS  FADES  A IV AY.    15* 

•* 

intensely  sentimental  nature  could  not  possibly  tie 
up  love  within  himself :  it  must  go  out  to  some 
object.  His  went  out  to  the  sweet-faced  Lucy 
Bayard. 

His  opportunities  for  seeing  hex  were  not  fre- 
quent ;  but  he  held  her  constantly  in  his  thoughts, 
and  subscribed  for  two  more  literary  papers,  and 
walked  by  her  home  as  often  as  was  .possible.  He 
also  regularly  attended  the  church  to  which  she 
belonged,  and  twice  had  the  rather  delirious  pleas- 
ure of  walking  home  with  her.  There  was  nothing 
in  his  manner  to  awaken  the  divine  "passion  in  her 
guileless  breast ;  but  her  gentle  heart  was  touched 
by  his  isolated  position,  and  she  dealt  kindly  with 
him  whenever  he  came  in  her  way. 

One  Sunday  evening,  a  few  weeks  after  the 
skating  carnival,  Redner  accompanied  her  to 
church.  He  had  made  up  his  mind  on  that  very 
day  to  tell  her  of  his  love,  and  to  learn  from  her 
lips  if  she  returned  the  passion.  That  she  did  so 
he  could  not  very  well  doubt ;  for  had  she  not  acted 
pleased  to  see  him  ? 

At  the  church  they  found  Anna  in  the  pew;  and 
after  .the  service  she  asked  them  to  walk  home 
with  her,  as  she  felt  timid.  Lucy  did  not  ask  why 
Tom  was  not  with  her,  because  Tom  did  not  go  to 
church  often  since  his  marriage.  He  liked  his 
ease  and  his  pipe  too  much  after  the  week's  work 
was  over  to  dress  up  and  go  out.  So  the  two  ac- 
companied her  home.  They  declined  the  invita- 
tion to  go  in,  —  at  least  Redner  said  it  was  getting 
late,  and  Lucy  acted  on  the  hint  thus  given. 


152  MR.   PHILLIPS'   GONENESS. 

* 

Shortly  after  they  reached  Lucy's  home,  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Bayard  retired,  and  the  young  folks  were  left 
alone.  Redner  picked  up  that  great  social  lever, 
the  family  album,  and  turned  over  its  exciting 
pages.  He  was  on  the  edge  of  a  mighty  revela- 
tion, and  his  hand  shook  as  he  turned  the  leaves. 

"  Miss  Bayard,"  he  presently  said,  speaking  her 
name  with  some  difficulty,  "  I  have  got  something 
I  want  to  tell  you.  I  hope  you  will  not  be  of- 
fended with  it." 

Lucy  said  she  was  sure  he  would  not  say  any 
thing  to  offend  her,  but  did  not  ask  him  what  it 
was.  This  rather  disconcerted  him.  It  was  full 
a  minute  before  he  resumed,  — 

"  I  don't  want  to  offend  you.  I  would  kill  my- 
self before  I  would  say  a  word  to  hurt  you.  But 
I  must  tell  you  what  is  on  my  mind.  You  won't 
be  angry  with  me  ?  " 

Lucy  could  not  conjecture  what  this  matter  was; 
but  she  assured  him  she  would  not  be  angry. 

"It  has  been  on  my  heart  a  long  time,  —  ever 
since  I  first  saw  you,  and  I  cannot  keep  it  to  my- 
self any  longer.  O  Lucy,  Lucy  !  "  he  passionately 
cried,  suddenly  dropping  on  his  knees  at  her  feet, 
and  clasping  his  hands  over  his  heart,  while  his 
eyes  turned  up  so  that  little  but  the  whites  were 
visible,  "  I  love  you  "  — 

"Mr.  Redner!"  cried  the  shocked  girl,  "don't 
do  this !  Don't  do  it ! "  She  attempted  to  rise,  her 
face  scarlet  with  confusion ;  but  he  clutched  her 
dress,  and  prevented  her. 


ONE  OF  THE  CHARACTERS  FADES  AWAY.    153 

"  Don't  leave  me  ! "  he  begged.  "  I  love  you,  — 
love  you  as  the  herb  of  the  field  loves  the  dew ; 
love  you  as  the  earth  loves  the  gently  falling  rain. 
O  Lucy !  sweet  Lucy  "  — 

"  Please  get  up,  Mr.  Redner !  please  get  up ! " 
cried  the  distressed  girl.  "  You  must  not  do  this. 
Some  one  will  come.  Do  get  up !  "  By  a  great 
effort  she  freed  herself  from  his  clutch,  and  retired 
to  the  farther  part  of  the  room. 

"  Lucy,"  he  gasped,  still  on  his  knees,  with  his 
hands  stretched  out  to  her,  "  don't  you  accept  the 
treasure  of  my  heart  ?  Are  you  not  my  own  ? " 

"O  Mr.  Redner!  don't  ask  me  this.  Get  up, 
please ! " 

"  Never !  till  your  lips  pronounce  my  fate,"  he 
vehemently  protested. 

"  I  cannot  love  you,  Mr.  Redner,"  she  answered, 
her  voice  trembling  with  the  agitation  of  the  situ- 
ation and  the  fear  of  some  one  coming  in.  "  Do 
get  up,  please !  " 

He  sprang  to  his  feet.  She  looked  at  him  ap- 
prehensively. 

"  Miss  Bayard,  do  you  reject  my  suit  ? "  he 
sternly  demanded. 

"  I  am  so  sorry,"  she  faltered. 

"  Answer  me." 

"  Don't  talk  of  this,  please !  I  cannot  love  you, 
Mr.  Redner." 

"Is  all  this  for  nought?"  he  tragically  cried, 
smiting  his  forehead,  and  glaring  at  the  ceiling. 
"  Is  my  suit  contemned,  my  love  discarded  ? " 


154  MR.  PHILLIPS'   GONENESS 

The  poor  girl  was  too  agitated  to  speak. 

"  It  is  enough  !  "  he  resumed  in  the  same  tragic 
air,  striding  to  the  table,  and  putting  on  his  hat, 
and  fastening  his  cloak.  "  The  hour  will  come 
when  you  will  weep  scalding  tears  over  this  brutal 
act.  Ere  another  sun  sets  in  yon  horizon,"  he 
added,  looking  under  the  table  for  his  cane,  "  my 
pulse  will  be  silent  in  the  chill  mists  of  death." 

Before  she  could  give  utterance  to  the  horror 
she  felt,  he  was  gone.  She  sank  nerveless  into  a 
chair,  and  pressed  her  hands  tightly  upon  her  eyes 
as-if  to  shut  out  a  ghastly  vision. 

What  should  she  do  ?  what  could  she  do  ?  She 
suffered  so  keenly,  that  she  could  not  remain  still. 
She  paced  the  floor  in  an  agony  of  apprehension. 
She  did  not  love  him ;  she  could  not :  but  her  ten- 
der heart  was  cruelly  agonized  by  his  suffering. 
Why  did  he  ever  see  her?  why  was  she  ever 
born  ?  She  went  to  her  room,  but  she  could  not 
sleep  :  her  mind  was  torn  and  racked  by  a  terrible 
fear. 

On  leaving  her,  Redner  did  not  go  directly  to 
his  boarding-house :  he  walked  the  streets  for  an 
h6ur,  and  then  he  went  to  Quimby's.  Removing^ 
his  shoes,  he  took  his  light,  and  went  down  to  the 
cellar,  where,  finding  the  half  of  a  mince-pie  on  a 
swing-shelf,  he  carried  it  to  his  room,  and  ate  it  in 
gloomy  silence. 

The  next  day  he  wrote  her,  that,  if  she  did  not 
change  her  decision  of  the  night  before,  he  would 
drown  himself.  She  was  glad  to  hear  from  him, 


ONE  OF  THE  CHARACTERS  FADES  AWAY.    155 

glad  to  know  that  he  was  not  dead.  She  wrote 
him  a  careful,  sensible  letter,  gently  telling  him 
that  she  could  not  be  to  him  what  he  desired,  but 
assuring  him  of  her  esteem,  and  begging  him  to 
forget  all  about  her,  except  as  a  friend.  In  an- 
swer to  this,  he  wrote  that  he  never  should  forget 
her,  that  she  had  wrecked  his  life,  and  all  that  re- 
mained for  him  now  was  to  fade  away. 

In  the  matter  of  fading  he  was  unexpectedly 
and  materially  aided  the  day  following  by  Tom 
Griggs,  who,  finding  an  atrocious  error  in  the 
paper  that  had  been  marked  in  Redner's  proof, 
lost  all  patience,  and  peremptorily  discharged 
him. 

"  Do  you  mean  to  tell  me  that  you  don't  want 
me  any  longer  ? "  demanded  the  young  man  ex- 
citedly. 

"  Yes  :  that  is  it." 

"  Why  is  this  ? " 

"Because  I  can't  afford  to  keep  a  man  who 
butchers  his  work  as  you  do." 

"  How  dare  you  talk  like  that  to  me  ?  "  he  hotly 
demanded. 

"Here's  your  money,"  angrily  rejoined  Tom. 
"And  now  you  leave  this  office  at  once,  or  I'll 
help  you  out,  you  miserable  fraud  !  " 

Inflamed  with  passion  as  Redner  was,  he  could 
not  fail  to  notice  that  Tom  Griggs  was  fully  a 
third  larger  than  himself.  He  clutched  the 
money,  and  strode  to  the  door. 

"  You  will  hear  from  me  again  very  soon,"  he 


156  MR.  PHILLIPS'   GONENESS. 

hissed  between  his  clinched  teeth,  as  he  passed 
out. 

That  was  three  years  ago,  and  he  has  not  yet 
been  heard  from.  But  that  is  the  way  with  most 
people :  they  promise  to  write,  and  then  don't 
doit. 


THE  WRONG  SIDE  OF  7OM  GRIGGS'  BED.    157 


CHAPTER   XVII. 

TOM    GRIGGS    GETS    OUT   ON    THE   WRONG    SIDE    OF 
THE   BED. 

TOM  GRIGGS  ate  his  breakfast  in  comparative 
silence  one  Monday  morning.  There  was  a  frown 
on  his  face,  and  he  chewed  his  food  and  gulped 
down  his  coffee  as  if  he  was  undergoing  a  most 
disagreeable  penance.  One  of  the  selected  articles 
in  the  preceding  number  of  "The  Gazette"  was 
entitled  "Cheerfulness  at  Meals."  It  .was  the 
cream  of  some  modern  Solomon's  observations  on 
the  imperative  necessity  of  a  cheerful  spirit  for 
the  handmaiden  to  wait  on  good  digestion.  Tom 
Griggs  reproduced  the  article  in  his  columns  be- 
cause of  its  sterling  sense,  and  it  is  to  be  hoped 
his  readers  profited  by  it.  But  Mr.  Griggs  was 
not  just  now  thinking  of  this.  It  was  the  day 
before  publication,  and  there  was  much  to  do  to 
prepare  the  matter  for  that  issue.  To  make  this 
performance  seem  a  mountain,  and  to  make  him 
feel  totally  unable  to  scale  it,  was  the  fact  that 
he  had  a  check  out  for  sixty-three  dollars,  and  not 
a  single  dollar  in  the  bank  to  meet  it,  although  it 
would  undoubtedly  be  on  hand  itself  that  very 
day.  Punctuality  is  the  chief  virtue  of  a  check 
which  lacks  its  face  at  its  back. 


158  MR.   PHILLIPS'   GONENESS. 

The  prospect  of  collecting  the  money  before 
three  o'clock  was  an  exceedingly  dismal  one.  So 
Tom  chewed  his  food  morosely,  and  looked  at  the 
table,  and  not  at  his  wife. 

It  was  not,  perhaps,  a  very  cheerful-looking 
table.  It  was  the  morning  of  wash-day,  and  the 
spread  was  doing  duty  for  the  last  time.  A  Mon- 
day-morning table-spread  is  not  an  inspiring  spec- 
tacle. The  steak  was  considerably  more  than  done, 
and  was  dry  and  hard,  —  very  good  qualities  indeed 
in  a  ginger-snap.  The  potatoes  had  been  left  in  the 
water  after  being  removed  from  the  fire,  and  were 
soggy.  The  coffee  had  been  boiled  too  earnestly. 
At  her  best  Anna  was  not  a  success  in  broiling 
steak,  or  making  a  pot  of  coffee  ;  but  she  had  a 
good  heart  and  a  magnificent  head  of  hair.  On 
this  occasion  she  had  also  an  aching  tooth.  She 
had  been  kept  awake  half  the  night  by  the  pain ; 
and  the  washerwoman  was  an  hour  late,  and  the 
wind  was  wrong  for  the  draught  of  the  stove.  In 
the  mind  of  the  young  wife  there  was  not  in  all 
Gallowhill  a  more  sorely  tried  housekeeper.  Be- 
fore she  was  married,  Anna  knew  just  how  a  table 
should  be  kept,  the  same  as  people  outside  of  a 
newspaper-office  know  just  how  a  paper  should  be 
conducted.  In  her  case,  as  in  theirs,  experience 
was  too  much  for  the  idea,  and  got  away  with  it. 
She  did  not  feel  this  morning  as  if  she  could  lift 
her  hand  to  do  a  stroke  of  work ;  and  the  ache  of 
her  tooth  made  her  temper  sore  all  around  its 
edges.  Absorbed  in  the  ache,  and  efforts  to  over- 


THE  WRONG  SIDE  OF -TOM  GRIGGS^  BED.      159 

come  it  by  applications  of  hot  coffee,  she  was  as 
silent  as  he. 

As  Tom  chewed  his  food  in  silence,  his  mind 
was  in  that  condition  to  be  easily  operated  upon 
by  the  least  observable  trifles,  if  of  a  disagreea- 
ble nature.  A  two-hundred-and-fifty-pound  man 
might  have  wrecked  his  sides  in  an  explosive 
guffaw  right  under  the  window  without  moving  a 
single  feature  of  Tom's  face  in  sympathy  there- 
with, while  the  whimper  of  a  child  would  have 
almost  tempted  him  to  lift  his  hand  in  anger. 

As  he  chewed  away,  his  eyes  rested  upon  the 
table,  vaguely  at  first,  as  if  his  mind  were  engaged 
far  distant,  and  then  gradually  concentrated  on  its 
various  spots  or  stains,  until  each  one  grew  into 
such  significance  as  to  seriously  annoy  him.  This 
led  him  to  recollect  that  the  coffee  was  muddy, 
that  the  steak  was  a  crisp,  that  the  potatoes  were 
s°ggy  5  and,  recalling  these  little  episodes,  it 
occurred  to  him  that  the  coffee  was  always  indif- 
ferent, the  steak  always  overdone,  the  potatoes 
always  water-soaked.  Once  well  launched  on  this 
flood  of  reflection,  there  were  a  number  of  depress- 
ing reflections  ready  to  greet  him.  Was  it  right 
that  things  should  be  so  ?  Did  he  not  have 
enough  to  battle  with,  without  being  crippled  on 
the  start  by  a  half-furnished  stomach  ?  It  was  not 
much  to  ask  that  his  food  should  be  cooked  prop- 
erly, so  to  get  the  right  nourishment  from  it.  It 
was  not  much  to  as'k  that  a  clean  spread  should 
deck  the  table  the  morning  of  the  day  on  which 


160  MR.  PHILLIPS^   GONENESS. 

he  had  to  collect  sixty-three  dollars  to  make  good 
a  bank-account.  These  were  such  inconsiderable 
trifles,  that  he  wondered  why  Anna  did  not  look 
after  them.  At  the  same  time  his  heart  was  hurt 
by  the  fact  that  she  had  not. 

Thus  brooding,  he  rose  from  the  table ;  searched 
for  his  coat,  and  found  it ;  searched  for  his  hat,  and 
found  it ;  and  then  prepared  to  start.  It  was  with 
a  remarkably  diffident  step,  as  if  his  heart  was  so 
full  of  lead  as  to  have  slopped  over,  and  run  down 
the  back  of  his  legs,  and  formed  a  pool  in  each 
heel  of  his  shoes.  His  starting  aroused  her.  She 
sighed. 

"  Are  you  going  ? " 

"Yes." 

"  I  wish  you'd  step  into  Walker's,  and  tell  him 
to  send  me  some  potatoes  and  a  broom  and  a  bar 
of  soap.  Tell  him  to  send  them  right  away,  for 
there  isn't  a  bit  of  soap  in  the  house.  And  get 
me  a  bottle  of  camphor.  I  used  up  what  mother 
gave  me  yesterday,  and  I  can't  go  through  another 
night  without  something  to  deaden  the  awful 
ache." 

"  Why  don't  you  have  the  tooth  pulled  ? " 

"  What  should  I  do  that  for  ?  It  ain't  a  decayed 
tooth  :  it's  only  a  cold  in  my  jaw." 

Tom  knew  this  ;  but  there  was  a  certain  amount 
of  pressure  on  his  mind  that  had  to  be  let  off  in 
some  way.  He  could  not  very  well  protest  against 
the  errand  at  the  grocer's.  Had  it  been  possible 
to  do  so,  there  would  have  been  no  need  to  speak 


THE  WRONG  SIDE  OF  TOM  GRIGGS'  BED.      161 

of  the  tooth.  Tom  wanted  to  assure  himself,  if 
no  one  else,  that  she  was  leaving  something  un- 
done. 

"  What  shall  I  get  the  camphor  in  ? "  he  asked, 
the  fall  in  his  voice  indicating  the  depth  of  his 
disappointment  over  the  failure  of  the  tooth  as  an 
auxiliary. 

"  There's  the  bottle  mother  gave  me :  take  that. 
It's  on  the  bureau,"  she  said. 

There  was  the  shadow  of  an  idea  floating  in  the 
young  husband's  mind  that  she  might  have  got  the 
bottle  for  him,  while  he  went  after  it  himself.  But 
he  said  nothing.  Then  he  left  the  house  for  the 
office,  and  Anna  went  weariedly  about  the  task  of 
clearing  the  table,  every  little  while  stepping  into 
the  kitchen  to  tell  Mrs.  Ting  about  her  tooth. 

If  Tom  Griggs  looked  for  any  lightening  of 
the  cloud  when  out  of  the  atmosphere  of  his 
home  and  in  that  of  the  office,  he  was  not  grati- 
fied. It  is  more  than  likely  he  had  no  such  ex- 
pectation. It  is  a  remarkable  fact  in  connection 
with  the  conduct  of  a  country  printing-office,  that, 
on  the  day  when  an  extraordinary  financial  effort 
is  to  be  put  forth,  some  mechanical  or  other 
trouble  arises.  A  form  "pies,"  or  an  important 
roller  melts,  or  some  one  of  the  meagre  force  is 
unexpectedly  taken  sick  or  drunk.  A  short  bank- 
account,  and  one,  if  not  all,  of  these  contingencies, 
invariably  conjunct  on  the  day  preceding  publica- 
tion. People  of  a  superstitious  turn  are  confident 
there  is  something  supernatural  about  this.  In 


1 62  MR.  PHILLIPS^  GONENESS. 

the  case  of  Tom  Griggs  it  was  the  last-named 
misfortune.  Hazelton,  being  of  a  frail  and  sickly 
cast,  and  not  expected  to  live  any  great  length  of 
time,  had  gone  off  on  a  broad  and  comprehensive 
drunk.  This  fact  was  communicated  to  Tom,  the 
moment  he  entered  the  room,  by  Mr.  Phillips,  in 
that  helpless  tone  peculiar  to  the  foreman  of  an 
office  when  he  is  confronted  by  an  emergency. 
"A  mighty  poor  look  for  the  paper,"  he  cheerfully 
added. 

Mr.  Phillips'  spirit  communicated  itself  to  Joe 
Goodwin  and  "Lippy,"  and  occasioned  the  former 
to  audibly  observe,  for  the  benefit  of  his  employer, 
"We'll  be  a  day  late,  or  I'm  damned ! " 

Whereupon  Master  Vanderlip  was  led  to  re- 
mark, for  the  behoof,  also,  of  the  dejected  editor, 
that,  if  the  paper  got  out  at  all  that  week,  it  would 
be  mighty  lucky. 

The  editor  sat  down  to  his  desk,  and  groaned 
inwardly,  while  he  involuntarily  clasped  his  head 
in  his  hands.  Then  he  went  at  his  books  to 
make  out  bills  for  collection.  There  was  an  array 
of  uncancelled  figures  in  the  columns  that  were 
most  grateful  to  the  casual  glance,  but  apples  of 
ashes  in  the  teeth  of  him  who  gave  them  a 
closer  inspection.  This  party  was  out  of  town ; 
or  that  one  was  to  pay  next  month  ;  or  there  was 
a  counter-account  from  so-and-so ;  or  what's-his- 
name  wouldn't  pay  anyway :  and  so  down  one 
column  after  another,  until  Tom  Griggs  began  to 
doubt  if  he  could  get  bills  enough  for  the  desired 


THE  WRONG  SIDE  OF  TOM  GR IOCS'  BED.      163 

amount,  saying  nothing  at  all  of  what  he  might 
collect  on  them.  And  while  he  was  at  this  labor 
his  muddled  brain  was  tossed  and  convulsed  by 
the  cry  of  "  copy,"  and  the  demands  of  visitors, 
and  the  queries  of  Mr.  Phillips,  who  never  before 
—  so  it  seemed  to  his  half-distracted  chief  —  was 
so  densely  helpless  and  ignorant  as  to-day.  That 
nothing  went  right  became  apparent  before  the 
day  had  gone  far.  Correspondents  disappointed, 
"sorts"  ran  out,  one  galley  was  pied, , and  marvel- 
lous stupidity  seemed  to  settle  on  the  compositors. 
It  seemed  to  the  unhappy  man  as  if  visitors  were 
never  half  so  numerous.  There  was  a  man  who 
had  a  farm  to  sell,  and  wanted  fifty  auction-bills. 
He  didn't  have  copy  for  the  bill,  not  being  used 
to  such  things ;  but  he  knew  the  printer  could 
write  it  out  in  a  jiffy.  Tom  complied.  Next 
were  three  women,  —  a  committee  appointed  by 
a  church-society  to  get  posters  for  a  strawberry- 
festival,  and  also  to  get  a  notice  in  the  paper. 
They  had  the  copy  for  the  poster,  —  about  enough 
for  a  small  pamphlet,  —  and  seemed  to  show  a  de- 
termination to  get  it  all  on  the  bill  in  the  biggest 
type  in  the  office.  After  a  prolonged  struggle 
with  them,  he  succeeded  in  getting  their  consent 
to  reduce  the  amount  of  matter.  A  full  half-hour 
was  used  up  with  this  party.  They  were  suc- 
ceeded by  a  lank  individual  of  a  dim  religious 
aspect,  and  the  escorter  of  a  portmanteau.  He 
dealt  in  a  line  of  lithographs.  Tom  hastily  but 
firmly  assured  him  he  did  not  want  to  buy,  at  the 


164  MR.  PHILLIPS1   GONENESS. 

same  time  eying  him  with  intense  dislike.  The 
man  said  he  did  not  want  him  to  buy  any  thing : 
he  only  wanted  to  show  him  some  perfect  gems  of 
art.  Tom  told  him  he  didn't  have  time  to  look  at 
them.  The  proprietor  of  the  gems  assured  him 
it  would  not  take  a  moment  to  see  them,  at  the 
same  time  opening  the  portmanteau,  and  taking 
out  a  cluster  of  wares.  The  victim  felt  like  brain- 
ing him,  but  hesitated  an  instant  on  the  verge  of 
the  act,  and  in  that  instant  he  was  lost.  The 
gems  were  spread  out  upon  his  desk,  over  the 
copy,  the  bills,  and  the  books,  and  the  author  of 
the  horror  was  expatiating  upon  their  merits,  while 
his  prey  stared  helplessly  at  the  sight.  Fortu- 
nately, at  this  juncture,  some  one  came  in  to  see 
about  an  advertisement :  whereupon  the  agent, 
with  great  forbearance,  observed,  — 

"  My  time  is  not  very  pressing.  I'll  wait  until 
you  get  through  with  this  gentleman." 

"I  shall  have  to  use  this  desk,  and  must  ask 
you  to  move  your  property,"  said  Tom  in  despera- 
tion. "  I  do  not  want  to  buy  the  pictures,  and  I 
have  no  time  to-day  to  look1  at  them." 

"Perhaps  some  of  your  employees  would  like 
to  avail  themselves  of  this  opportunity  to  secure 
a  few  rare  copies,"  he  pleasantly  suggested. 

Tom  shuddered.  The  time  of  every  man  in  the 
office  was  precious. 

"  Copy,"  said  Mr.  Phillips. 

The  editor  of  "The  Gallowhill  Gazette"  felt 
that  his  reason  was  leaving  him. 


THE  WRONG  SIDE  Of  TOM  GRIGGS1  BED.      165 

"  There  is  no  time  to  attend  to  you,"  he  savagely 
protested,  glaring  at  the  agent.  "There  is  not  a 
moment  to  spare  here  all  day  to-day." 

The  owner  of  the  gems  caught  up  his  property, 
and  departed,  very  much  at  a  loss  to  understand 
why  a  free  and  enlightened  press  should  be  cursed 
by  a  boorish  management. 

The  half-stunned  editor  immediately  after  sever- 
ally entertained  the  following  parties  :  — 

A  man  with  a  Western  paper  containing  a  story 
of  a  suicide  which  occurred  several  months  be- 
fore, and  had  been  seen  by  Mr.  Griggs  some  forty 
odd  times.  He  wanted  the  paper  saved  after  the 
article  had  been  used,  apd  was  some  time  in  getting 
away,  owing  to  numerous  injunctions  to  this  end. 

A  woman  with  a  poem,  whom  Tom  thought  to 
escape  by  telling  her  he  would  read  it  at  another 
time,  but  ignobly  failed,  as  the  poem  was  an  obit- 
uary to  be  published  that  week.  In  despair,  he 
promised  to  print  it,  without  more  than  a  glance 
over  its  twelve  verses.  She  said  she  would  want 
five  copies  of  the  paper ;  and  that,  she  supposed, 
would  be  compensation  enough. 

A  man  with  a  four-column  newspaper  article  on 
the  phenomenon  of  atmospherical  influences  on 
the  Arizona  cactus.  He  pronounced  it  the  clear- 
est and  most  logical  exposition  of  this  popular 
subject  he  had  seen,  and  was  very  anxious  to  have 
it  appear  in  the  paper  next  day,  Almost  bereft  of 
breath  by  this  suggestion,  Tom  told  him  that  the 
paper  was  already  nearly  full.-  The  man  said  he 


1 66  MR.  PHILLIPS'   GONENESS. 

was  confident  there  wasn't  any  thing  in  it  one-half 
as  important  as  this,  and  room  ought  to  be  made 
for  it. 

A  man  with  a  written  account  of  a  visit  he  had 
made  to  Boston,  being  mostly  a  complimentary 
description  of  the  hotel  at  which  he  had  stopped, 
with  the  proprietor's  name  and  the  hotel's  terms, 
which  the  article  spoke  of  as  being  exceedingly 
reasonable.  When  published,  he  wanted  a  copy 
sent  to  the  landlord,  who  would  probably  sub- 
scribe. 

A  man  with  sixty  dollars'  worth  of  advertising 
of  a  patent  medicine,  to  be  inserted  for  eight  dol- 
lars ;  also  a  five-dollar  editorial,  to  be  published  in 
consideration  of  getting  the  contract. 

A  man  who  had  taken  the  right  of  the  town  to 
sell  a  patent. window-fixture,  and  came  in  to  tell 
it,  as  he  knew  items  of  a  local  nature  were  always 
acceptable.  Having  a  fixture  with  him,  he  kindly 
gave  fifteen  minutes  of  his  time  to  explain  its 
workings,  and  was  particular  to  see  that  the  half- 
numbed  editor  got  his  name  spelled  right. 

A  man  who  was  an  extensive  grower  of  straw- 
berries for  the  market,  and  who  brought  in  ten 
cents'  worth  of  the  fruit  for  the  exclusive  behoof 
and  enjoyment  of  the  editor,  and  who  thoughtfully 
suggested,  that,  in  case  mention  was  made  of  it  in 
the  paper,  it  might  be  added  that  he  had  plenty  of 
the  article  on  sale. 

A  man  who  supposed  the  editor  was  glad  to  get 
any  thing  to  fill  up  the  paper  with,  and  so  notified 


THE  WRONG  SIDE  OF  TOM  GRIGGS'  BED.      167 

him  that  he  had  a  few  choice  cabbage-plants  to 
sell,  —  a  fact  many  of  the  readers  would  be  glad  to 
know. 

This  philanthropist  had  barely  got  out  of  the 
door  when  the  shrill  factory-whistles  announced 
the  hour  of  noon.  Catching  up  the  bills,  and 
determined  to  shake  the  dust  of  the  office  from 
his  feet  until  the  bank  matter  was  settled  one  way 
or  the  other,  Tom  Griggs  started  home  for  a  hasty 
dinner. 

The  moment  he  got  inside  the  house,  his  spirits, 
which  had  risen  somewhat  in  tho  hasty  transit 
through  the  open  air,  fell  considerably  in  the 
doleful  and  dreary  atmosphere  of  steam  and  soap. 
The  dining-room  was  as  he  left  it  in  the  morning, 
excepting  the  table  had  been  cleared  of  the  break- 
fast-dishes, and  now  held  a  tin  pail  full  of  blueing- 
water,  a  pan  of  freshly  wrung  clothes,  a  clothes- 
stick,  a  pasteboard  box  of  clothes-pins,  and  a 
partly  used  bar  of  soap. 

"Gracious,  Anna!"  he  ejaculated  in  dismay, 
"  ain't  you  got  dinner  ready  yet  ? " 

"Dinner!"  she  returned,  looking  as  much  put 
out  as  himself.  "  Why,  it's  only  twelve  o'clock  ! 
and  we're  washing.  You  ought  to  know  that, 
Tom." 

"  But  I'm  in  an  awful  hurry,  and  I've  got  four 
hundred  things  to  do  this  afternoon." 

"  I  can't  help  it,  Tom.  I  try  to  do  the  best  I 
can ;  but  I  can't  do  every  thing,  and  my  tooth  has 
made  me  half  crazy  :  and  you  never  said  a  word 


1 68  MR.  PHILLIPS'   GONENESS. 

this  morning  about  wanting  dinner  any  earlier 
than  usual.  Did  you  get  the  camphor  ?  " 

"  Thunder !  no  :  I  forgot  all  about  it.  But  no 
wonder,  for  I've  been  about  distracted  with  one 
thing  and  another.  Hazelton  is  off  on  a  drunk, 
too,  to  make  matters  worse." 

"  I'll  get  dinner  now  if  you'll  take  those  things 
off  the  table,"  she  said. 

"  I've  got  no  time  to  wait,"  he  hastily  protested. 
"  I  can  eat  what  I  Want  in  the  pantry,  I  suppose." 
And,  suiting  the  action  to  the  word,  he  helped  him- 
self to  some  bread  and  cold  coffee,  which  he  ate 
as  if  in  sullen  protest  of  his  wife's  tardiness  ;  and 
then  he  left. 

Anna  made  no  remark.  She  wished  that  her 
husband  could  have  had  a  hot  dinner;  but  she 
could  not  believe  a  man  who  so  easily  forgot  an 
errand  would  suffer  for  the  want  of  a  dinner. 

Every  moment  of  the  time  allotted  him,  Tom 
worked  like  a  beaver ;  but,  doing  his  very  best,  he 
could  not  raise  the  sum  he  required.  At  a  quarter 
to  three  he  lacked  fifteen  dollars  of  the  amount. 
In  this  strait  he  ran  across  a  friend,  and  from  him 
he  borrowed  the  necessary  money,  and  got  to  the 
bank  in  time  to  make  the  deposit,  aad  take  up  the 
check;  pocketing  the  latter  just  as  the  clock  struck 
three. 

He  reached  the  office  relieved,  but  exhausted, 
and  took  up  the  burden  of  the  coming  issue  of  the 
paper. 


DESTINY  COLLARS  MR.  PHILLIPS.  169 


CHAPTER   XVIII. 

DESTINY   COLLARS    MR.  PHILLIPS. 

IN  the  beginning  of  the  month  of  September 
following  the  opening  of  this  chronicle,  Mrs. 
Quimby's  boarding  establishment  received  an 
acquisition  in  the  person  of  a  widow  lady.  She 
came  from  the  adjoining  town  of  Sansgammon ; 
and  her  mission  to  Gallowhill  was  to  canvass  for 
"  Woman's  Sphere,"  a  bulky  subscription  volume. 
Her  stay  in  the  village  was  to  extend  through  a 
period  of  three  weeks,  and  during  it  she  was  to 
make  her  home  with  Mrs.  Quimby. 

She  was  a  bustling  little  woman  with  bright 
gray  eyes,  well-filled  cheeks,  an  easily  gliding 
tongue,  and  a  rather  trim  figure.  She  was  most 
favorably  disposed  toward  Mr.  Phillips,  and  took 
every  occasion  to  notice  him.  Some  of  the 
boarders,  of  a  worldly  turn  of  mind,  attributed 
this  attention  to  the  fact  that  our  friend  was  con- 
nected with  the  village  paper ;  but  Mr.  Phillips 
entertained  no  such  sordid  thought,  and,  had  it 
been  suggested  to  him,  he  would  have  scouted  it 
at  once.  A  highly  complimentary  notice  of  the 
work,  with  the  name  of  the  canvasser,  appeared  in 


170  MR.  PHILLIPS'   GONENESS. 

"  The  Gazette,"  the  copy  being  in  the  symmetrical 
handwriting  of  our  gallant  friend  ;  but  it  was  a 
valuable  book,  and  deserved,  without  doubt,  all 
that  was  said  of  it. 

The  favor  in  which  the  widow  contemplated  him 
was  very  gratifying  to  Mr.  Phillips,  as  well  as 
being  creditable  to  her  powers  of  discrimination. 
With  that  discernment  peculiar  to  him  in  the  ob- 
servation of  female  character,  he  was  not  long  in 
discovering  that  she  was  a  superior  woman. 

He  studied  her  with  increasing  interest.  He 
escorted  her  to  and  from  church  twice,  and  was 
agreeably  impressed  with  her  sensible  views  of 
pulpit  oratory  and  theological  points.  He  also 
took  her  to  a  fair  and  festival,  and  was  so  charmed 
with  her  qualities  of  mind,  that  he  actually  forgot 
where  he  was,  and  was  relieved  of  eight  dollars 
and  sixty  cents  before  recovering  himself. 

He  had  known  her  a  period  of  ten  days,  when 
he  became  convinced,  that,  if  he  was  ever  to 
amount  to  any  thing  in  this  life,  his  future  must 
be  merged  with  hers. 

He  was  passing  into  the  sitting-room  one  even- 
ing, intently  thinking  upon  this  matter,  when  he 
came  into  her  presence.  She  was  the  only  occu- 
pant of  the  room,  and  she  was  sitting  by  the  win- 
dow to  get  the  benefit  of  what  breeze  was  stirring. 
When  he  saw  that  they  were  alone,  he  was  very 
much  agitated,  so  plainly  was  the  hand  of  Provi- 
dence seen  in  the  matter. 

"Good-evening,  Mr.  Phillips,"  greeted  the  lady, 


DESTINY  COLLARS  MR.   PHILLIPS.  171 

with  a  smile  of  welcome  that  thrilled  him  to  the 
heart's  core. 

"  Good-evening,  Mrs.  Richardson,"  he  responded 
in  an  agitated  voice ;  for  he  was  thinking  of  the 
opportuneness  of  the  meeting,  of  the  ordeal  he 
had  determined  to  pass  through,  of  the  array  of 
bitter  experiences  that  strewed  the  past. 

"  Are  you  not  well,  Mr.  Phillips  ? "  she  inquired 
in  deep  solicitude. 

"  Oh,  yes !  I  am  well,"  he  answered,  smiling  in 
a  ghastly  manner. 

"  You  do  not  look  well,"  she  added,  as  if  in 
doubt.  "  It  is  very  warm.  Perhaps  the  weather 
affects  you." 

"It  ain't  the  weather,"  he  hastened  to  assure 
her  :  "  it  is  deeper  than  that,  —  deeper  than  that, 
Mrs.  Richardson." 

"What's  deeper,  Mr.  Phillips?  " 

"The  thing  that's  on  my  mind,  and  makes  you 
think  I  ain't  well,  Mrs.  Richardson.  Do  you  know 
what  I  was  thinking  of  when  I  came  in  this  min- 
ute ?  "  He  gave  her  an  enraptured  glance. 

"  No,  Mr.  Phillips,  I  do  not.  What  was  it  ?  " 
She  smiled  helpfully. 

"  I  was  thinking  of  you." 

"Of  me,  Mr.  Phillips?  How  strange  that  you 
should  be  thinking  of  me!  And  what  was  you 
thinking  of  in  connection  with  me,  Mr.  Phil- 
lips ? " 

"  I  was  thinking  how  much  " —  The  foreman 
of  "  The  Gazette "  brought  up  as  suddenly  as  if 


172  MR.  PHILLIPS'   GONENESS. 

he  had  been  shot,  and  shook  like  a  leaf.  He  had 
almost  precipitated  himself  into  the  dreaded  vor- 
tex, without  realizing  that  he  was  anywhere  near 
it.  In  an  instant  more  he  would  have  actually 
done  the  deed ;  but  the  fate  that  had  relentlessly 
pursued  him  for  years  overtook  him  at  the  very 
edge  of  the  crisis,  and  floored  him  in  a  flash. 
His  stomach  sank  ;  his  tongue  clove  to  the  roof 
of  his  parched  mouth. 

Mrs.  Richardson,  at  first  startled  by  the  un- 
earthly appearance  of  his  face,  immediately  re- 
covered herself,  and  looked  at  him  intently. 

"  How  much  what,  Mr.  Phillips  ? " 

He  shook  himself  as  if  to  shake  off  a  giant,  and 
gasped,  "How  much  I—  I—  I—  I—  I"—  He 
could  go  no  farther.  The  last  pronoun  expired  in 
his  throat  like  the  last  gurgle  in  a  pump,  and  he 
sank  with  a  groan  into  a  chair. 

The  puzzled  look  in  her  face  cleared  up  at  once. 
She  immediately  sprang  into  the  breach. 

"  Do  I  understand,  Mr.  Phillips,  that  this  '  much ' 
refers  to  your  regard  for  me  ? " 

"  Yes,"  he  eagerly  answered. 

"  That  your  regard  is  very  great  ?  " 

"Yes,"  greedily. 

"  That  you  really  love  me  ? " 

"  Yes,  yes."  A  drowning  man  could  not  have 
clutched  more  eagerly  at  a  plank. 

"  That  you  want  to  marry  me  ?  " 

« I  do,  I  do." 


DESTINY  COLLARS  MR,   PHILLIPS.  173 

"  Then  I  am  your  ticket,  Mr.  Phillips,"  promptly 
confessed  the  blushing  widow. 

"  Don't  call  me  Mr.  Phillips :  call  me  Ez,"  cried 
the  delighted  man,  catching  her  in  his  arms. 

"  EZ ! " 


174  MR.  PHILLIPS'   GONENESS. 


CHAPTER   XIX. 

WERE   THEY   BILIOUS? 

OF  course  Mr.  Phillips  and  the  happy  widow 
had  their  wedding-day ;  but  it  is  not  our  purpose 
to  give  the  particulars  of  the  ceremony.  Already 
have  we  stretched  this  simple  story  beyond  its 
'contemplated  dimensions,  and  we  must  bring  it  to 
a  close.  They  were  married  at  Quimby's.  Mrs. 
Quimby  insisted  upon  this ;  and,  as  the  home  of 
the  fair  bride  in  Sansgammon  was  but  a  boarding- 
place,  she  could  easily  consent  to  the  proposal. 

To  be  sure  Tom  and  Anna  were  at  the  cere- 
mony, although  it  did  look  at  one  time  as  if  the 
pleasure  would  not  be  theirs.  The  marriage  was 
to  take  place  at  an  early  hour  in  the  day,  and  at 
nine  o'clock  the  carriage  was  to  call  for  Tom  and 
his  wife.  This  demanded  lively  action  on  Anna's 
part.  She  had  the  breakfast  to  get  and  clear  away, 
and  the  other  work  to  do,  before  she  could  dress 
herself.  So*  much  enforced  haste  made  her  ner- 
vous and  irritable,  and  the  temperature  of  her 
mind  readily  influenced  him,  —  the  two  being  one. 
Someway  the  cooking  did  not  go  right.  It  had  to 
be  in  a  measure  slighted,  of  course ;  but  the  time 


WERE    THEY  BILIOUS?  175 

thus  saved  did  not  appear  to  count  much  as  an 
advantage.  As  soon  as  Tom  finished  eating,  he 
proceeded  to  dress  himself,  while  Anna  hastened 
to  clear  away  the  breakfast-things.  He  got  a  clean 
shirt,  and  got  it  on,  when  he  discovered  that  the 
back  button  was  off.  This  was  a  great  shock  to 
Tom  Griggs.  If  the  crab-apple-tree  in  the  front- 
yard  had  stepped  into  the  room,  and  lifted  him  by 
his  back  hair,  he  could  scarcely  have  been  more 
surprised  and  hurt. 

He  took  off  the  garment,  —  not,  however,  with 
that  deliberation  one  employs  in  peeling  a  banana. 
Rather  it  seemed  to  come  off  as  if  by  a  sudden 
impulse.  Then  he  threw  it  back  of  him  in  a  man- 
ner that  implied  considerable  agitation.  He  took 
out  another  shirt,  and  examined  it  hastily.  It  was 
in  good  condition,  and  he  put  it  on.  A  moment 
later,  Anna  in  the  pantry  heard  her  name  called. 

"  What  is  it  ?  "  she  cried. 

"  Where  have  you  put  my  collars  ?  I  can't  find 
them." 

"  They  are  in  the  drawer  with  your  shirts,"  she 
answered. 

There  was  a  moment  of  silence. 

"  They  ain't  here,"  he  then  asserted. 

Anna  hastened  to  the  room,  saying,  "Dear 
me!" 

Her  face  fell  as  she  saw  the  disordered  bureau. 

"  O  Tom  !  what  have  you  been  doing  ?  "  She 
could  have  cried,  she  was  so  heated  and  vexed. 

"I  have  been  looking  for  those  collars,  and  I 
can't  find  them." 


1 76  MR.  PHILLIPS'  GONENESS. 

She  went  to  the  bureau. 

"They  ain't  there,"  he  protested. 

She  made  no  reply,  but  picked  up  several  of  the 
articles  in  the  shirt-drawer,  and  brought  forth  a 
collar.  It  was  an  ungenerous  thing  for  her  to  do, 
and  Tom  resented  it. 

"I  don't  see  the  sense,  Anna,  in  putting  my 
collars  in  a  place  like  that,  where  they  can't  be 
found  without  burrowing  like  a  woodchuck." 

"  They  have  always  been  kept  there,  and  that  is 
the  place  for  them ;  and  you  would  have  found 
them  if  you  had  looked." 

"Look!  Didn't  I  look,  I'd  like  to  know?  "he 
demanded.  But  she  was  back  to  her  work  again, 
without  replying  to  him.  It  was  not,  however, 
because  she  wished  to  keep  silent.  Every  moment 
her  voice  came  from  the  other  rooms  in  such 
encouraging  observations  as  the  following:  — 

"  Oh  dear  me  ! 

"  I  never  can  get  ready,  I  know ! 

"  Here  it  is  nearly  eight  o'clock,  and  nothing 
done! 

"  Gracious  !  what  shall  I  do  ? 

"  I  sha'n't  stop  to  make  the  bed. 

"  That  carriage  will  be  here  before  I've  got  half 
through ! 

"I'll  leave  the  dishes  in  the  sink  until  I  get 
back." 

In  the  mean  time  Tom  wrestled  with  the  collar, 
which  refused  for  a  long  time  to  button  ;  and  with 
his  stockings,  that  seemed  determined  to  go  on 


WERE   THEY  BILIOUS?  177 

heels  upward  in  spite  of  his  frantic  efforts  to  keep 
them  down.  Then  he  had  a  time  of  it  to  find  his 
cuff -buttons,  which  some  one  had  deliberately  gone 
off  with.  He  knew  this  to  be  a  fact,  because  he 
distinctly  remembered  where  he  put  the  buttons 
when  he  last  used  them,  and  they  could  not  have 
walked  away  themselves.  Some  one  had,  un- 
doubtedly, broken  into  the  house  in  the  night,  and 
removed  them.  It  was  a  contemptible  trick  any- 
way. Anna  was  dressing  herself  now,  and  she 
had  too  much  to  do  to  look  up  the  buttons.  But 
she  had  no  sympathy  with  the  burglar  theory. 
If  he  had  put  the  buttons  where  he  said  he  did, 
they  would  be  there  now.  He  was  too  vexed  to 
speak.  It  was  so  ungenerous,  so  harsh,  for  her 
to  say  this.  He  would  find  them  himself,  or  he 
would  go  without  them,  before  he  would  ask  her 
help. 

Anna  was  using  the  glass  to  crimp  her  hair. 
She  was  nervous,  excited,  heated.  She  never 
knew  her  hair  to  be  so  contrary  as  it  was  this 
morning ;  and  it  never  had  been.  She  burnt  her 
hand  too  with  the  pencil.  It  seemed,  as  she  ad- 
mitted herself,  she  would  go  wild. 

She  hastily  snatched  a  towel  from  the  rack,  and 
something  fell  on  the  floor.  It  was  a  pair  of  soiled 
cuffs.  They  were  Tom's.  In  them  were  the  but- 
tons. His  eyes  fell  on  them  the  same  time.  He 
turned  his  face  from  her  at  once,  and  picked  up 
the  articles. 

"  I'd  like  to  know  who  in  thunder  put  them 
there,"  he  muttered. 


I78  MR.  PHILLIPS*   GONENESS. 

"  It  must  have  been  the  burglar,"  she  suggested. 

"  I  know  I  didn't  do  it,"  he  persisted,  still  with 
his  back  toward  her. 

"  Oh,  it  was  the  burglar !  "  she  hastened  to  assure 
him.  "  He  took  the  buttons,  and  then  he  hunted 
up  the  dirty  cuffs,  and  put  the  buttons  in  them, 
and  left  them  on  the  rack,  under  the  towel." 

"  Come,  Anna,"  he  hastily  said,  "  this  is  no  time 
for  foolishness." 

The  carriage  arrived  a  full  quarter  of  an  hour 
before  she  was  ready.  This  added  to  the  flustra- 
tion.  He  was  all  dressed,  and,  having  nothing  else 
to  do,  went  to  the  front-door  to  look  at  the  car- 
riage, and  then  came  back  and  told  her  it  was 
there,  and  asked  her  how  long  she  was  going  to 
be ;  and  then  went  back  to  look  at  it  again,  and 
immediately  returned  to  tell  her  it  was  still  wait- 
ing, and  would  she  never  get  ready.  After  doing 
this  a  half-dozen  times,  the  poor  girl  cried  out  in 
desperation,  — 

"  Tom,  if  you  can't  help  me,  for  pity's  sake  don't 
drive  me  wild  !  " 

He  sullenly  retired. 

Finally  she  was  ready.  She  took  her  handker- 
chief-box from  a  bureau-drawer  to  select  a  hand- 
kerchief. As  she  lifted  the  box,  a  bit  of  paper  fell 
on  the  floor.  She  picked  it  up,  gave  it  a  hasty 
glance,  and  threw  it  on  the  bureau.  He  came  back 
at  this  juncture,  and  saw  the  slip.  As  she  took  a 
farewell  glance  in  the  glass,  he  looked  at  the  writ- 


WERE  THEY  BILIOUS?  179 

ing.     It  was  brief,  and  in  pencil.     Its  date  was 
more  than  a  year  old.     It  simply  read,  — 

"  MY  DEAR,  PRECIOUS  PET,  —  I  will  be  up  at  three 
o'clock  with  a  team  to  take  you  riding.  I  cannot  bear  to 
have  you  look  so  tired  as  you  did  last  night;  and  so  I 
must  put  aside  my  own  work,  and  take  you  out  for  a  while. 
The  fresh  air  will  do  you  lots  of  good.  When  we  are  mar- 
ried, darling,  I  won't  let  you  get  tired. 

"  Yours  lovingly, 

"  TOM." 

He  dropped  tbe  paper  suddenly,  and  hurried 
with  her  to  the  carriage. 


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one  can  hardly  lay  it  down  after  taking  it  up." 

IN    TRUST; 

OR, 

DR.    BERTRAND'S     HOUSEHOLD. 

i2mo.    Cloth.     $1.50. 

Miss  Douglas  possesses  the  genuine  art  of  telling  a  story  naturally  and  well. 
She  is  far  removed  from  those  sensational  novelists  whose  prurient  writings  are 
oftenest  found  in  the  hands  of  the  rising  generation.  The  present  story  is  quite 
fascinating,  with  an  obvious  lesson  running  through  it,  which  no  one  can  mistake. 

CLAUDIA. 

i2mo.      Cloth.      $1.50. 

"  The  plot  is  very  dramatic,  and  the  denument  startling.  Claudia,  the  heroine, 
is  one  of  those  self-sacrificing  characters  which  it  is  the  glory  of  the  female  sex  to 
produce."  —  Boston  Journal. 

STEPHEN   DANE. 

i2mo.     Cloth.    $1.50. 

"  This  is  one  of  this  author's  happiest  and  most  successful  attempts  at  novel- 
writing,  for  which  a  grateful  public  will  applaud  her.''  —  Herald. 

HOME    NOOK; 

OR, 

THE    CROWN    OF    DUTY. 

i2mo.     Cloth.     $1.50. 

'  "An  interesting  story  of  home-life,  not  wanting  in  incident,  and  written  in 
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popular  "  — New-York  Graphic. 

SYDNIE   ADRIANCE; 

OR, 

TRYING     THE     WORLD. 

i2mo.    Cloth.    $1.50. 

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OVER   THE   OCEAN; 

OR, 

SIGHTS    AND    SCENES    IN    FOREIGN    LANDS. 

By  CURTIS  GUILD,  editor  of  4<  The  Boston  Commercial  Bulletin."    Crown  8va 

Cloth.    $2.50. 

"  This  is  certainly  a  collection  of  some  of  the  most  perfect  pen-pictures  of  sights 
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ABROAD   AGAIN; 

OR, 

FRESH    FORAYS    IN    FOREIGN    FIELDS. 

Uniform  with  "  Over  the  Ocean."    By  the  same  author.    Crown  8vo.  Cloth.  $2.50. 

AN   AMERICAN    GIRL   ABROAD. 

By  Miss  ADELINE  TRAFTON,  author  of  "  His  Inheritance,"  "  Katherine  Earle," 

&c.     i6mo.     Illustrated.    $1.50. 

" '  The  American  Girl '  is  a  bright,  good,  merry-hearted  girl,  off  for  a  good  time ; 
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Liberal  Christian. 

BEATEN   PATHS; 

OR, 

A     WOMAN'S     VACATION. 
By  ELLA  W.  THOMPSON.    i6mo.    Cloth.    $1.50. 

"  The  author  seems  to  have  hit  on  just  the  most  charming  things  to  see,  and 
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A  THOUSAND  MILES'  WALK  ACROSS  SOUTH 
AMERICA, 

OVER    THE    PAMPAS    AND    THE    ANDES. 
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VOYAGE  OF  THE  PAPER  CANOE. 

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FOUR   MONTHS    IN   A   SNEAK-BOX. 

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merous maps  and  illustrations.  $2.50. 

CAMPS    IN   THE    CARIBBEES. 

Being  the  Adventures  of  a  Naturalist  Bird-Hunting  in  the  West  India  Islands. 
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"THE    BREAKING   "WAVES    DASHED    HIGH." 

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By  FELICIA  HEMANS.    Illustrated  by  Miss  L.  B.  HUMPHREY. 

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UNIFORM    WITH 

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"OH!  WHY  SHOULD  THE  SPIRIT  OF  MORTAL 
BE  PROUD?" 

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"ABIDE    WITH    ME." 

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BALLADS    OF   HOME. 

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GEMS    OF   GENIUS. 

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JESOP'S    FABLES. 

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LITTLE    PEOPLE    OF    GOD, 

AND    WHAT    THE    POETS    HAVE    SAID    OF    THEM. 

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ART  PUBLICATIONS. 


Professor  CHARLES  A.  BARRY'S  New  Book. 

MODEL    AND    OBJECT    DRAWING; 

OR, 

THE    REPRESENTATION    OF    OBJECTS 

(Particularly  the  Geometrical  Solids  used  in  Art-Schools)  as  they  appear.  An 
Essay  prepared  for  Instructors  in  Drawing,  and  American  Art-Students. 
4to.  Numerous  illustrations.  Price  50  cents. 

PRIMER    OF    DESIGN. 

By  CHARLES  A.  BARRY,  late  Supervisor  of  Drawing,  Boston  Public  Schools.     75 

illustrations.     Net,  75  cents;   by  mail,  90  cents. 

"  The  primary  aim  of  this  beautifully  illustrated  primer  is  to  give  aid  to  drawing- 
teachers.  The  principles  are  illustrated  in  a  way  to  make  them  intelligible  and 
useful  to  every  one  teaching  design."  —  New  England  Journal  of  Education. 

ART   AND    ARTISTS    IN    CONNECTICUT. 

By  H.  W.  FRENCH.    Full  gilt.    8vo     $3.75. 

This  elegant  volume  comprises  sketches  of  nearly  two  hundred  artists  whom 
Connecticut  claims  either  by  birth  or  adoption.  The  work  is  beautifully  illustrated 
with  full-page  and  letter-press  designs,  comprising  portraits  of  artists,  engravings 
of  their  work,  and  in  many  cases  original  designs,  specially  prepared  for  this  book. 

ELEMENTS    OF    DESIGN. 

For  the  use  of  Teachers  and  Parents.  By  Dr.  WILLIAM  RIMMER,  Boston  Art- 
School  ( Museum  of  Fine  Arts).  48  full-page  illustrations.  Cloth.  Net,  $2.00; 
by  mail,  $2.25. 

Dr.  Rimmer's  manual  exemplifies  a  method  of  teaching  drawing  founded  on  the 
idea  that  it  does  not  signify  merely  an  imitation  of  forms,  but  that  it  aims  mainly 
to  reproduce  expression.  It  is  a  bold  and  attractive  drawing-guide,  which,  taking 
the  human  form  as  a  model,  gradually  unfolds,  from  the  simplest  lines  to  the  full 
anatomical  subject,  the  elements  of  figure-drawing  in  all  their  variety  of  limb, 
feature,  muscle,  and  form,  rendering  easy  of  comprehension  every  intervening 
step.  It  is  a  work  invaluable  to  the  student  and  the  artist. 

ART: 

ITS    LAWS    AND    THE    REASONS    FOR    THEM. 

Collected,  Considered,  and  Arranged  for  General  and  Educational  Purposes,  by 

SAMUEL  P.  LONG.     i2mo.    Cloth.     $2.00. 

It  is  a  very  handsome  book,  with  steel-plate  illustrations;  a  work  of  decided 
merit,  and  a  pleasant  guide  in  the  search  for  the  good,  the  beautiful,  the  true. 

THE    PRINCES    OF   ART. 

Translated  from  the  French  by  Mrs.  S.  R.  URBINO.     i2mo.     Cloth.     $2.00. 
It  is  a  pleasant  book,  designed  not  for  the  professional  or  amateur  only,  but  for 
popular  enlightenment  about  those  men  who,  with  the  Brush,  the  Chisel,  or  the 
Graver,  have  achieved  an  immortality  of  fame. 

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THE  TELEPHONE. 

An  account  of  the  Phenomena  of  Electricity,  Magnetism,  and  Sound,  as  involved  in  its 
action ;  with  directions  for  making  a  Speaking  Telephone.  By  Prof.  A.  E.  DOL- 
BEAR,  of  Tufts  College.  i6mo,  illustrated.  75  cents. 

"  An  interesting  little  book  upon  this  most  fascinating  subject,  which  is  treated  in  a 
very  clear  and  methodical  way.  First,  we  have  a  thorough  review  of  the  discoveries 
in  electricity,  then  of  magnetism,  then  of  those  in  the  study  of  sound  —  pitch,  velocity, 
timbre,  tone,  resonance,  sympathetic  vibrations,  &c.  From  these  the  telephone  is 
reached,  and  by  them  in  a  measure  explained."  —  Hartford  Courant. 

THE  ART   OF  PROJECTING. 

A  manual  of  Experimentation,  Physics,  Chemistry,  and  Natural  History,  with  the 
Porte- Lumiere  and  Magic  Lantern.  By  Prof.  A.  E.  DOLBEAR.  i2mo,  cloth, 
illustrated.  Price,  $1.50. 

"  This  book  supplies  a  place  no  former  treatise  has  filled.  For  several  years  we 
have  made  frequent  use  of  the  oxy hydrogen  light  and  porte-lumiere  for  class-room 
illustration,  but  we  find  here  many  things  we  had  never  thought  of  before.  The  book 
abounds  in  descriptions  of  practical  and  easily  tried  experiments,  any  ingenious  teacher 
can  easily  try  with  little  expense.  It  is  not  an  addition  to  the  existing  number  of 
scientific  treatises,  but  an  exceedingly  useful  help  to  all,  alike  valuable  for  the  beginner 
and  college  professor."  —  National  Teachers'  Monthly. 

PRIMER   OF   DESIGN. 

By  CHARLES  A.  BARRY,  late  Supervisor  of  Drawing,  Boston  Public  Schools.  75 
illustrations.  Net,  75  cents.  By  mail,  90  cents. 

"  The  primary  aim  of  this  beautifully  illustrated  primer  is  to  give  aid  to  drawing- 
teachers.  The  principles  are  illustrated  in  a  way  to  make  them  intelligible  and  useful 
to  every  one  teaching  design."  —  New-England  Journal  of  Education. 

"  Mr.  Barry  is  an  artist  of  eminent  ability,  excelling  especially  as  a  draughtsman; 
and  his  experience  as  a  teacher  is  made  available  in  presenting  with  force,  precision, 
and  clearness,  the  principles  and  laws  which  he  undertakes  to  inculcate.  As  a  text- 
book it  will  prove  very  serviceable,  and  we  should  be  very  glad  to  see  its  value  recog- 
nized in  our  public  schools."  —  Epitome  of  Literature,  Philadelphia. 

ELEMENTS   OF   DESIGN. 

For  the  use  of  Teachers  and  Parents.  By  Dr.  WILLIAM  RIMMER,  Boston  Art  School 
(Museum  of  Fine  Arts).  48  full-page  illustrations.  Cloth.  Net,  $2.00.  By 
mail,  $2.25. 

Dr.  Rimmer's  manual  exemplifies  a  method  of  teaching  drawing  founded  on  the  idea 
that  it  does  not  signify  merely  an  imitation  of  forms,  but  that  it  aims  mainly  to  repro- 
duce expression.  It  is  a  bold  and  attractive  Drawing-Guide,  which,  taking  the  human 
form  as  a  model,  gradually  unfolds  from  the  simplest  lines  to  the  full  anatomical  sub- 
ject, the  elements  of  figure-drawing,  in  all  their  variety  of  limb,  feature,  muscle,  and 
form,  rendering  easy  of  comprehension  every  intervening  step.  It  is  a  work  invalua- 
ble to  the  student  and  the  artist. 


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4 


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"  One  of  the  nicest  of  the  stories  for  youths  which  has  appeared  this  season  is 
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pected from  the  gray,  one-armed  warrior,  who  commanded  an  army  corps  at  Chancel. 
Iprsville,  Gettysburg,  and  under  Sherman  before  Atlanta,  a  story  of  American  country 
life  which  will  compare  not  unfavorably  with  '  Tom  Brown's  School  Days.'"  —  Wash- 
ington Herald., 

LIVE  BOYS; 

Or,  Charley  and  Nasho  in  Texas.  i6mo,  cloth,  illustrated.  $1.00. 
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the  prairies  to  the  Northern  markets,  it  is  a  very  interesting  book  for  young  people. 
The  two  boys  who  are  the  heroes  of  the  tale,  desirous  of  visiting  the  Centennial,  man- 
age by  trapping,  hunting,  and  herding,  to  secure  the  necessary  means;  and  the  pluck 
and  perseverance  shown  by  them  is  characteristic  of  frontier  life,  where  every  one  has 
to  depend  on  his  own  abilities." — New-England  Farmer. 

IKE  PARTINGTON; 

Or,  The  Adventures  of  a  Human  Boy  and  His  Friends.     By  B.  P.  SHILLABER 

(Mrs.  Partington).     i6mo.  cloth,  illustrated.     $1.25. 

"  Were  there  a  civilized  nation  on  the  face  of  the  earth  whose  people  have  not  heard 
of  our  Mother  Partington's  son  '  Ike,'  or  even  did  we  for  a  moment  suppose  there 
existed  a  solitary  individual  from  Maine  to  the  Gulf,  or  the  Atlantic  to  the  Pacific, 
ignorant  of  '  Ike's '  existence,  we  might  feel  inclined  to  say  something  in  behalf  of  this 
book.  With  a  world-wide  fame,  however,  it  is  needless.  His  name  is  the  synonyme 
for  fun,  the  world  over;  and  to  say  that  a  reading  of  his  book  is  the  best  remedy  for 
general  debility  known,  must  be  a  sufficient  indorsement  to  give  it  an  immense  sale." — 
A  merican  Monthly,  Philadelphia.. 

PIZARRO : 

His  Adventures  and  Conquests.     By  GEORGE  M.  TOWLE.    i6mo,  handsomely 

illustrated.     $1.00. 

"  The  exciting  career  of  this  great  Spanish  captain  is  familiar  to  all ;  but  previous 
authors  have  generally  failed  to  clothe  the  story  with  that  easy  familiar  style  so  attrac- 
tive to  the  young.  Mr.  Towle  has  succeeded  in  striking  the  happy  medium  between 
dry  details  and  romantic  exuberance  in  his  '  Pizarro.'  His  story  opens  with  a  graphic 
picture  of  the  young  Pizarro's  boy  life;  and  the  author  carries  the  reader  on,  step  by 
step,  with  the  career  of  the  adventurous  youth,  until  the  conquest  of  Peru  is  com- 
pleted."—  New-Haven  Register, 

VASCO  DA  GAM  A: 

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$1.00. 

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and  that  he  discovered  the  way  to  India  around  the  Cape  of  Good  Hope.  His  life  was 
brimful  of  adventure,  and  the  book  will  be  of  great  interest  to  the  young  for  whom  it 
is  especially  prepared,  yet  not  the  less  interesting  to  older  people  who  love  history, 
and  the  deeds  of  brave  men  when  the  earth  was  much  younger  than  at  present.  It  is 
illustrated  and  well  printed." —  Taunton  Gazette. 


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LEE   &   SHEPARD,  Publishers Boston. 

C.  T.  DILLINGHAM New  York. 


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